Timelessly, limitlessly the braches soard to the sky,
Tirelessly, fatiguely the roots hit the core of earth,
From cerrulean heights to crimson dark depths,
Lied the distance between self and wisdom of heart,
Not sure if it is loftiness or suicidal thoughts of death,
Not sure if it is a revolutionary act of anarchy,
Or just a free spirit, free rebelious depart.
ACT OF KISS
Lost, in knowing self, lost between the crowds,
Lost in my own thoughts, lost in my own mind,
Lost, a loner, I had been, thou I had seekth,
In the deepest roots of my heart,
In the most complex dark corners of myself.

This night I wake, to musics aloof,
so distant in the wonders of passion,
and so eager, that yet, amused,
I say,
I've found here so little, compassion!

It saddens me when I stare out into, the vastness of our despair
for I find no shelter, in the wilderness here, and I seekth for none out there!
The nights have been generous but sturdy still; ever lonesome, waking, and bare!

Tonight, will be a memoir,
and the lines will read in stone...
The moors shall sing to the whaling,
and the mermaids back to back,
to the worlds of elderly woe,
and the nights so cloaked in black!
the fiddlers shall sing, and choirs resound,
the ruthless words of wedded bounds...
Onto the veiling bow, and great divide,
we dare in this silence, still confide...
to the vow of endless dream!

A.r. Bazian
*2014