Gift of The Magi

Were I, Magi,
I might toss the runes,
Look across the sweeping sands
And marvel at the dunes.
Read the words of poets
Who have courted many moons,
Search the far horizon
For signs of passing.

This sense of great sadness
Moves through the midnight air.
I ask a lone stranger, but they
Just look at me and stare.
And if I stare right back at them,
Their stare becomes a glare.

So I look across the sweeping sands,
And marvel at the dunes,
Open up my velvet bag,
And again, I toss the runes.

With rose midnights moons
She feels our love
Through the clouds rain and blue
The candles warmths and soothe sigh
I love you

Reynaldo Casison

i dream of oceans and half moons;
lips against my ear, whispering empty promises;
hidden power dripping between the scars;
forever tattooed on my body;

in the end, i sigh as i finally, finally fully bloom;
no longer a mystery.

I'd like to say i'm doing better
That i'm being productive or feeling good
But mostly i just feel tired
And think about seeing them again
I had a dream about them last night
I decided one day to just fly out and visit them
Seeing them again was surreal
Like eating after starving for days
Or breathing after choking for so long
We embraced and i felt my heart stutter
My smile bright like moons
And for a while i was drunk on their presence
Wanting to only be with them
And thus spurred a realization within me
I love them
More than anything i love them
Platonic, romantic, neither
It doesn't matter
I love them
This is all i know

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just random stuff to share from my notes:>

                            twinkle twinkle in my head

                           a fairy tumbling into my bed

                      on a quest to the escape trips the feet

                     laughter spread wide on the concrete

                                hidden from the unseen

                              yet for the magic to appear

                             a glisten from afar not near

                                  holds before the gone

                        before the adventure or the run

                         silenced on trickles of embraces

              tattooed to the lips in drips from those chases

           unfunded to the dimples of the backs of the faces

                             to a welcoming of a nation

                            a whole new legacy a creation

            symphonies to my ears an incredulous fascination

                I rather the harmonious dancing pleasantries

                  that bring the chaos and back the pastries

                                  not of cakes not of candy

                                           of memories

                                     in a twist in a frown

                       the enchantment betrays and drowns

                      the lover into a fictional immortality

                           the kind that sweeps from reality

   to the hands of seconds on the visual symbols of conspiracy

                                      flustered by snow

                     into margins drunk on the laws of penalty

                       and the encounters of past familiarity

                      hums into the heights smoothed frights

                                     bet you a comeback

                                      in the final scene

                        the again everlasting so called calamity

                        not even knowing the costs or the price

                               hence on the steps they wise

                               an adornment so pure so nice

                                       simple for a ball

                                       unique for a fall

                                       on the toilet wall

                                    and the myth in the hall




                                
                                                                ­      

                                                               ­                   -----ravenfeels