The shortest day throughout the year
Should leave us with but little cheer
Yet as the day turns into night
A hope lies with its dimming light

A hope unbroke through eons past
Tho doubt it often would amass
In hearts and spirits of long last
Ancestors who witnessed it's glow

For they, who didn't truly know
The secrets of the star that hides
That, as the light that shines in thee
The sun lives on, eternally

No longer will the Gods arise
For what's eternal never dies
We leave behind all fear and fright
In that long, cold, dark winter's night

And all that's left for use to do
Is wait for day, to break on through
And turn our faces to the sun
Knowing one day we'll all be one

i listen in
to the whisper of the trees-
like a silence that the earth
can’t quite hold,
words that try to be secrets
kept between the land and the sky
but the wind grips my sap-stained palms
and the branches reach into my soul
like bones crawling out of a grave
and into the air
quietly
but there.

we walked together to the river
my scissors in your hand
i came back with short hair
messily cut
memories forgiven
and a fresh start

i shut my eyes and see the wardens bloom
their leer adrift above a nescient sea.
(i think the insects swallowed up my womb.)

they linger whist in ***** afternoon,
where sky and ocean taint what used to be.
i shut my eyes and see the wardens bloom.

the trees revive a name they won’t assume,
truth trickles through their twigs too slow, too free.
(i think the insects swallowed up my womb.)

the world gives in to predetermined doom;
the sun forgets, the branches disagree.
i shut my eyes and see the wardens bloom.

light limps in shreds through a decaying tomb,
and every ray once knew of memory.
(i think the insects swallowed up my womb.)

love was a ghost...
no, love was just perfume
now scentless, lost in stolid athropy.
i shut my eyes and see the wardens bloom.
(i think the insects swallowed up my womb.)

echo island
invites me to dine on its shore.
the wild orchid, hidden and torn,
begs me to linger,
weaves gold in my hair —
and claims me,
its trophy,
unaware.

Stillness echoed long and loud
Among the waterlilies out,
And was repeated by the trout
Who would not move or swim about

Silence reigned at morning come
And into noon the world kept mum
Noiseless sunlight beams become
An unforgiving tranquil thrum

I came upon this place by chance
Where time had stopped its ageless dance
Mirrored waters at first glance
Who’s picture put me in a trance

Not a single sound was heard
Not a cricket nor a bird
Perhaps a fly that soon demurred
To stillness that here reigned unstirred

Dead, dead, dead was the ground
As was the bird that made no sound
The air was still, silence profound
The carp choked and butterfly drowned

When at last my mind awoke
From its dreamlike state, I spoke,
Attempting to still make a joke
Of shunned fire without smoke

“By god! the Farmer had his way,
All he took, he would not sway
But not to cry, he’ll surely stray,
And give up his terrain some day”

Quick I left this place that not
For any living thing begot,
Besides the stillness of the spot,
A single thing to tempt but rot

Tristă ne e povestea,
Și așa va fi pe veci,
Frântă-n valuri ne e calea,
În căutări de glasuri reci.

De uitare dătătoare
E tăcerea dintre noi,
O iubire trecătoare
Stinsă-n ceasuri fără ploi.

Se înalță norii-n vânt,
Peste tulburea mare
Poartă al nostru trist cânt
În cerul fără de hotare.