Wild is your matted hair ,
like red rose bush on
stark , desolate moor ,
you whisper my
name .
☆
Dreams become
ghosts ,
a stream of conscious
crystal ,
they relinquish secrets
and we are everywhere
as one .
☆
A thousand lives ,
radiant tapestry of
centuries,
perfect in Geometry
and where Aphrodite is
enthroned .
☆
The moor stretches to
Infinity ,
lone eagle glides high above .
We commune in silence
as love transmutes to light .

A trembling pale girl enters a stone
fortress of faith, buttresses flying outside,
in hopes of finding a way to atone,
find an anchor in the world’s shifting tides.

This Gothic cathedral lifts her wet eyes
to its heavenward ribbed vaulted peaks.
They’re painted deep blue like starry skies
in remembrance of what Creator to old Abraham speaks.

There, where each vault’s stone arches crisscross,
shines out like a clear harvest moon
the radiant burst of a gilded boss
that gleams in the recessing gloom.

Adrift in this vast and sacred space,
thin curls of burnt incense waft by
to fill the young girl with scented grace
whilst she sits in this place with wide eyes.

The gold on the stone catches candlelight
and reflects its flickering blaze
as the quiet chanting of canticles might
let her senses be softly amazed.

While the twinkling of these numerous stars
fills her rediscovered heavens within,
the tides of her fears recede past sandbars,
leaving puddles of patience therein.

The promise made by the Father long ago —
Abraham’s children would a galaxy be —
finds fulfillment in this starry girl now aglow
since from her darkness she’s tenderly freed.

She found her anchor and cast it up to the skies.
It caught a bright star and held fast.
New dawn lit inside her in quiet reply,
telling her no tides of tempest can last.

Its all part of grief, all part of life
Suffering and pain and strife
And smiles and comedy and fun
The stars, the moon, the skies and sun
They're all aspects of this cool "one"
That some have come to know as God
Or Nirvana, Universe
They are all words in the verse
Of seeing life through your own lens
There wouldn't be as much suspense
Without heavier words such as
The death of love or a sad pass
Poetry comes through the contrast
Of sea and stone and monotone
Is something no one should aim for
When reading about themselves,
If you're in pain, congratulate yourselves
You dont realize how much
Life you're living with the touch
Of grief that you're letting be seen
You've never been more akin
To love than now, the lines are full
Not half like the sun at noon

So while it hurts and brings much dread
I need to admit love is dead
And it is not coming back
At least not on the same track

And I'll be honest it's not fun,
Sometimes not even the least
But they don't call it "good grief"
For nothing...

Do they? =))

_M.

Another time , another place ,
where fate , with our
unspoken dreams ,
in smoky dim lit bar
relates .
☆
The chanteuse sings a lonely song
of love and memory ,
as one by one ,
a pearly raindrop tear
stains the window of the night .
☆
For the ground you are on
is already harvest ground .
☆
Your thornwood spear for
battle .
☆
Pro Aeterna Veritate
☆
And what each one seeks
he will surely find .

I chased life

I chased dreams
I chased hopes

I chased pleasures
I chased desires
Across clear streams
And through bright forests

I lived for the future
I lived in the past
In that I denied the present

I lived on what I will be tomorrow
I lived on what I was yesterday
In that I rejected who I am today

I lived on what I will have
I lived on what I had

In all I forgot to be grateful
For all that I am

It never served me
But fed my ego
Fed my mind
Fed my emotions
Fed my insecurities
Fed my fears
Fed the notion I was not enough

I have been driven by others
I have been driven by life
I have been driven by everything around me

Now I choose to be
Driven by Theïkós
Now I choose to be
Guided by Illahi

Now I choose to allow
The soul to speak
Now I choose to allow
The soul to lead

I no longer want what they have

I no longer want to become what they are
I no longer want to become what I am not

I am no longer attached to my past
I am no longer attached to my future

I am no longer attached to the known
As I seek to find myself in the unknown

Their parameters
Are no longer my measure of success
Their labels
Are no longer my self-identity
Their conditions
No longer form my reality
Their successes
No longer dictate my purpose

Now
Infinite possibilities
Infinite opportunities
Infinite blessings
Open
I accept myself

Thank you for being here!
By NwK

The ****** Mary held a
bowl ,
blue radiant tongues of fire .
The light in the dark ,
the mother of all worlds ,
the ******* of all liars .
☆
See now the Holy Infant's pain ,
stigmata's lovely flower .
The spiral staircase
where childhood was slain ,
the monster that dwells in the tower .
☆
Small faces scream for justice ,
now enshrined in truth .
The light in the dark
will be merciless compleat ,
and far exceeding eye or tooth .

A free bird I want to be
Despite the fears of freedom
Despite the unfamiliarity of the destination
Free as a bird I want to be
as the breath of stars.
In every heartbeat, a story lies,
In every soul, a universe of skies.
Yet in the echoes, we remain,
A whisper in the wind,
In the vast expanse within, we are kin.
No lines to mark where you end and where I begin
We find a truth profound: there are no borders in our souls.

A free bird I want to be
Our hearts beat in unison, a universal song,
In the dance of life, we all belong.
No walls can hold the spirit, no chains can bind the heart,
In the realm of the soul, we are never apart.
We are threads in a tapestry, woven with care,
Each one unique, yet all are there.
In the fabric of existence, every soul plays a part,
Connected by love, the language of the heart.
For in the end, we are one, there are no borders in our soul,
In the dance of the cosmos, in the flow of time,
We find our place, in the rhythm and rhyme.
A unity of hearts, a collective dream
A free bird I want to be
On wings of dreams, I’ll soar so high,
Beyond the clouds, across the sky,
Unbound by chains of earth or sea,
A free bird, yes, that’s what I’ll be.
In skies of blue, my heart will sing,
Of freedom’s joy, the gift it brings,
No cage, no walls, just liberty,
A free bird, that’s my decree.
In forests deep or deserts wide,
Above the world, where secrets hide,
With boundless joy, so wild and free,
A free bird, that’s my destiny.
With wings spread wide, I long to fly,
Touch the stars, caress the sky,
Unbound, unhindered, wild and free,
A free bird, I yearn to be.

We have no vision of end
or defeat .
No flaw for arrow  to seek
in armour made from
radiance of a thousand stars .
☆
Defiant and mercurial ,
when even bloodied and in strife .
Sweet shifting of the Blessed Worm
in the cold , cold ground .
☆
So , the Imperfect Vessel ,
having stumbled , moves on ,
with all his piety and wit ,
unable to cancel out
a single memory of it .
☆
Imploring to Heaven
for Her pure guiding light ,
while rounding to face the storm ,
now the enemy is in sight .

The village church was built to last.
It would stand until Judgement Day.
Its oak rafters would hold the roof fast
above the faithful who there prayed.

The grey stone is carved with inscriptions
of verses of scripture from Father God
who would grant the faithful benedictions
as they knelt on stone flagstones in awe.

The faithful had built for generations
and for generations still to exalt:
A gold, stone, and mortar salvation
rising up to a heavenward vault.

The stone walls were decorated, gilded,
lined with the lives of the saints
whose blessings had once gently lilted
out of the colorful daubs of paint.

The saints’ faces long faded away
and the statues have hair of green moss
while a few arches still try to stay
up like stone ribs of a body now lost.

The vault now lies open and broken
with a clear view to the old God above
and its grassy shell is now a mere token
of this cathedral built to love.

The broken flagstones are now a green mat
and the nave is barren. Its grey pall
belies the colors in abundance it once had.
There’s no more shine of gold at all.

Yet the grass that grows there is still blessed
by the faithful in ground hallowed below.
I’m touched by their hushed songs still sung, caressed
by soft breath of holy wind which there flows.

I should not be surprised by the hypocrisy,
It’s not hidden, it’s as thin as a veil,
Over eyes that look but refuse to see
The forked tongue and serpents tail.
Honor is weak and integrity frail
Poisoned by lies and strangled by fear,
Bargained like Faust at a crossroad sale,
Cheaply exchanged for something unclear.
One mans dream becomes another’s tear
Common ground as fertile as salted earth,
Dead as Christ at the tip of Longinus’ spear
Hemorrhaging but without hope for rebirth.
Hope, like a waning a moon grows dark
The Future unclear down this path we embark