The moon and stars they wept.
The grey blanket of clouds covered the light source.
The morning sun was dead.
In a bunked lowly chair I sat as I stare the first drop of sky's tears fall in the windowpane.
It's like watching a full played orchestra.
The loud crackles of every droplet hitting my roof sounded like violins.
The wind steered the tempo of each cello sounding raindrops.
Marvelous harmonies of saxophones, bassoons, oboes, clarinets and flutes symphonized the silence.
Sky, the orchestra conductor is crying.
So am I.
Then I remembered, that I'll play a function too.
I'm the orchestra's vocal soloist.
Oh, here's my part . . . I screamed.

I am a little note,
A voiceless sound.
Until I am embrace life,
I shall stay bound.
But lend me to an artist
and then you shall see,
How he'd mix me with his mayhem
so a symphony I can be.
But if I wished, then I
could be a patriot's song;
the anthem you people would sing,
but that won't be for long.
Because the next time you hear
I'll be a melancholic tone,
tearing your heart apart,
as you stare at walls alone.
Or I could be a joyous rhythm
to make your soul smile,
or to make you tap your feet
and forget the world for a while.
For I am just a note;
you thoughts, I can vocalize.
Deciphered only by the heart
and not the brain of someone wise.

Show me the secrets of your shadowy places, where the visage of men has not yet been.

Lead me to your garden in the grove amongst the pines, painted flaxen gold in dappled summer sun.

Show me your blooming petals and your fruiting trees. Let me harvest your abundance, caressed by honeyed fingers, cast long and low against the tree trunks, fading fire orange into vermillion, scarlet, crimson, and violet dusk.

 In twilight turning, with Venus hung low on the horizon, and Scorpius rising from the southern hemisphere,

Trust my hand and follow blindly through the forest, over hobbled rotten logs, under branches reaching, eyes shielded from their grasping, scratching talons creeping sticky with cobweb and lichen,

 Quietly toward the moonrise, eastward and down, upon a matted needle trail, softly trodden only ever

by you and by myself.

Wander with me, barefoot,
out, into the ether;
under the veil of our night-mother's gaze
and sublimate into the mist.

Lay with me in the clover beneath the starsign symphony

-Gaze upon its harmony and shimmering melody-

Inhale the acrid sweet scent of our settling dew,
and reveal to me your many flowered truths

Show me your soul
set aflame
from love, and life, and pain.
Share yourself unequivocallly;
My Goddess and my muse, betrothed of imps and faerys
radiate upon me
- Become my revelry -