I woke up with a deep longing
to nourish the seed of my dreams.
A near life experience.
A vision of love
just beyond the horizon.
I reached for the stars
and burned in the sun.
I drank from the ether.
Showered in darkness.
The tide of emptiness receded,
washing clean the shores of my soul.
I harvested passion
and prayed with the meek.
I sang for you.
Cried for you.
Gifted my heart
in a box made of spirit.
I sacrificed beauty
to send you my kiss.
I cried to the heavens in silence.
I wailed to know you.
Begging forgiveness,
petitioning God.
"Do not let the sands of time
slip through my fingers."
"Do not let this yearning
pass to the fray".
My heart now beats into
a void of eternity.
My silence completes me.
We are now one.

If I could change the winds of time
If I could measure the winds of change
If I could send you the breath of life
I would fly with you in the warm summer breeze
But all I have are these words
Alone in the dark with the company of thought
Waiting for the sun to rise
Waiting for the storm to break
Waiting for the chance to finally know

When your heart is filled with emptiness
When your spirit is the void
When your soul is wrapped in darkness
Seek the stars inside

The hardest words
I've ever written
were a riposite "farewell",
a chapter left unfinished,
a blank page in my book of life,
set aside for you

If ever you resided within a chamber of my heart,
Know that it still wears your decorations of affection.

The crafts we built of time,
The wrinkles in the draperies,
The tearstains in the carpet,
That used to bring us comfort.

I may have changed the locks.

Shuttered it to yesterday.

But late at night,
When all is dark,
When silence falls upon my spirit,
My inner child,
A forgotten hope,
A life we birthed and buried....

Cracks the door,
From time to time,
And sparks a whispered vigil,
So light can touch the splinters
In the plaster of my soul.

A faded house of love...

A place we once called home

Maybe,
Broken people
Attract other broken people
Because their pieces
Look like pieces
We have lost along the way.

How I love
The smell of aged books.

They carry hints
Of teardrops and laughter
From lovers
Who I'll never meet.