He looks to the East in astonishment:

The tone of her voice
Becomes the fall of a light rain on a city street;
Gentle and lively, such as that of a car
Passing through a shallow puddle.

The way she wanders about,
He just cannot look away.
She becomes Aphrodite,
Walking the streets of Greece,
Becoming the new standard for him.

He wishes he could be hers;
Unraveling all of her secrets,
With her compassion,
Adventuring with all of her wonders.

He then turns to the West;
He knows it is not meant to be.

He tries to accept these terms,
Regardless of how unsettling they may be.
He knows he can make her happy in other ways,
Although she can only make him happy in one way.

“In another life, perhaps.”, he states with lament, and starts towards the West.

morning dove
or is it the mourning dove?
speaks this morning
of melancholy
rock and sheep
and a drunken friend
who each night
ended his day
the same

each minute
was nothing I knew
it was the sound of the bells,
around their necks
and from the church.
Above in the abandoned castle,
defenses down
in rooms
open to the sky
looking down
on the village life
the smell of the beach
fish and retsina
the wisteria sheltered agora

I came there
like the gypsies
we never saw
who snuck in at night
took our clothing
off the lines
and potted plants
from the patio,
leaving only what was missing
as evidence
they'd been there

The timeless sound of buzzing, sap and tweet
Winning over the rushing clock of Athens' heat
In the garden, souls rest their busy minds
while
the birds
and insects
make a mess of sounds with the wind

When some humans peacefully disrupt the humming for a second,
my mind goes to the clouds.
From where I see the character...
a chubby black bird playing with dry leaves on the ground. Or...is it looking for something? maybe a lost bright feather
to regain self confidence. In vain.
Cause little does it know what's not safeguarded can't remain.
I pity it for a while as my eyes take up the sunbathed trees
and the little creature gets even closer to me.

...Here's to say that if I've ever accomplished something in life,
that is not posing a threat to a chubby black bird in its pursuing rite.

and the spectacle background,
Grasshoppers, waxwings, dragonflies, swallows and bugs
try desperately to be successful in their appearance. But they need to resign themselves to their beautiful lack of musical coherence.

I'll get down from the clouds,
say goodbye to my courageous little friend
and head to thousands of years ago.
Good luck with your feather, bro

                    ...Well, maybe it was just looking for food after all.
                we, humans, tend to complicate everything when                we have our minds in the clouds...

To look, to touch, to hold,
To squeeze, to smell, to kiss,
To  unhappily release.
These truths still untold
Block the blow of our bliss!
To love from the shiver of the skin,
From the blood and the flesh and the bone
To the flame for a soul within...
To love and to feel alone.
To try to touch the incandescence,
To reach the limpness of a cloud,
To hurt both company and ausence,
To jump, to fly, to fall.
To cry and to pray and to kiss again
In a poisoning paradox of desire,
To feel as cold as ice and hot like melting fire.
In spite of the time,
In spite of morality,
In inspite of our parents,
Of our own anxiety,
In inspite of the world
And whatever watches from above,
In spite of ourselves,
To love.
To love and to pray and to hurt again
To jump, to fly, to fall,
To feel Hell and Heaven at the reach of a hand
But to know nothing at all.

Amidst the hordes, such mighty wroth:
my bloodline doth elate.
Posterity hath, though, borne aloft
my banner as the Great.

Springing forth my namesake there,
outhewn from Hellas’ opal,
that city which was brought to bear:
her name Constantinople.

For years to pass there was beholden
Thy glory all so clear.
The Great City’s holy site, golden:
there stood Hagia Sophia.

Therein however I bade Thee
to grant portent or sign.
Thou didst forsooth bequeath to me
one sacred and divine.

I stand upon the ever-brink,
Rome’s beauty lies thereunder.
Thy truth through me starteth to sink,
it striketh me like thunder.

The sun blindeth my weary eyes
as I gaze over yonder;
whereupon thou revealest me:
In this sign, you will conquer.