And she left her there on the hillside crying out...
Crying out...
Don't leave me here alone...
Please don't leave me alone!
I'm your child, you are my mother, I need you, you are the nurturer.
I'm crying, I'm in bitter pain, you know my worst fear is being alone.

loneliness, loneliness! oh, oh you've come to see me off dear loneliest, haven't you?

The crisp clean air that I have been breathing is slowly tainted with poisoned smoke...
oh, though all smoke is tainted with fear
Come back again and meet me here, for now I am HAUNTED... with fear.

-
Everyone is a unique seed
with a potential to bloom
into something beautiful
Nurture yourself as pure
and consistent as love itself
Fear no drought
For you are not destined
to wilt before your time
You will have all you need
to get to the stage of flowering
All your God given talents,
known and hidden,
discover, refine, hone
Bloom...
-

Come take a walk with me and satisfy an old woman’s dignity
by assuring her there are gentlemen still.
Take my hand and let me lean upon you as we move our bones
down Butterfly road.

Look

A dragonfly is lazily circling the pond, see how he catches the sun?
Like a stained glass window at sunset,
casting colours into the dim nave; lighting the unscrupulous knave
and his hyperbole

Listen

Silence can be heard young man, but first you must still your blood
Amplify the silence, deafen your passion
In return you’ll demystify the sirens lullabies and nullify lies
Whispered in sensual bedevilment.

Taste

Drink in this scene young man, the lazy end to summer
soon she’ll be chased and embraced by Autumn’s leaves
Raked away into a crisp pile
allowing regeneration to begin.

Feel

Young man, soon my walk with you will end
but you’ll carry on, up and around the bend
until you feel the chill air
and need to be somewhere warm.

Smell

Nothing evokes feelings like those known to the senses
The feel of your love as you hold them,
the sound of their heartbeat rushing in your ears
the heavy scent of *******.
The look of sated happiness in their eyes
and the taste of salty tears as they cry.

Yes, young man all things end.
This talk. This walk.
This summer. The butterfly.
*Termini

was i born a poet
or did i become one
i suppose,
these stars were always enchanting
but only now did i learn
how to express that.