The same rose, still ablaze scorching red,  
A ****** from realms yet untread,  
That unfolds upon the ancient, earthen bed—  
But heed the thorn; this way one cannot tread.

Every morning the nightingale sings her song,  
Leaps into melody, ere the day grows long.  
Down the moon’s open eye, once strong,  
To unlock the door, one must belong.

In the quietude, beneath the moon’s aged grace,  
Maybe lies a key forged in shadow,
The sun slides down, lights a candle at a silent pace.  
Who claims this boon, who dares to embrace,  
Must know the rose’s fire, the nightingale’s chase.

When I was finally able to say
Goodbye
I felt not the need to move my lips or
Move myself to
Utter the words..

Whether or not you are there
I feel not the need to check.
The last I saw,
You lifted your barriers
And that is all I need to know.

You are you
And in the time it took to realise
The permanent distance between us
"Goodbye"
And I would never see you again.

we sip
berry blood wine
under the full goddess moon
eclipsed radiance
and I wonder about
our future--

I need dependable solace
yet comfort, the faith to
speak and not nag, to be really heard--

done with fake promises
and unfulfilled needs,
a new untread path
with brambles and semi-clearing
to unearth my passion,
my desire to grow
& love again--

--LNM
(02.11.2017)

Lying in nights true form
I saw you beneath me; the bees began to swarm
Tasting the trails of where finders have lead
Ecstasy leaning to worlds untread
Marks to deliver such sweet sound
Pounding hearts beat as movements confound
Show to me this sweet child of night
What lips have shown each chase cause me fright
I shutter under melodies of hot cress
oh darling you have pocessed my breath
Arches and bones have created your path
Lead me to the promise land and show no wrath
Curves sway as the seas begin to crash
Meet me at the high point, watch it thrash

Dear somber veil
Intertwine the wreaths forming moaned laurels
Little by little each touch shows quarrels
frivolous children under satin minds
Laced with faucets, wax, and rinds

Prime of my life
Priming my life
For some prime prize
Progress provides.

But if prime plans proved
Poorly placed,
And my priming went to waste
What would I have?
What good could a bunch of
“Should”s be,
If I ended up exactly,
Matter of factly
Where I once stood?
Primely dissatisfied
With time gone by.

What would I find,
If instead, I didn’t dread a step
On a path untread
Certainly unsure,
But with a bit more
For me to explore,
Now,
And less up ahead.

Was built upon good faith, foundation benefit of doubt
Although uncertain, leaning, favoring the untread route.
Impossibility! shout the jaded to the wall
to dulled reverberance , stability hushes each call.

But what window once met face to see far reaches of what may,
That pane you e'er panel, each nail hammered by what you say
til it's yourself left to talk to in the dark away from day
will you wonder how much longer with yourself you have to stay?
can you see in all that darkness what a coward you portray?

I wish deceit your venom elicited even apathy,
if not warranted repulsion of regard of you set free
but what thrashed to disbelief lurches into - for you i grieve
i'd never **** the worst to from yourself you'll never leave.

Firelight and starkness
I lie awake and pray for darkness
Shape me, forge a fake
Allow the clone to live in my stead
Allow her to be adorned in leftover thread
Allow her to walk roads untread
Paths avoided for battles lost
The forests edged in fairy frost
Allow the other to be greeted by my name
Allow her to bathe, unashamed
But I? I shall walk away
Into darkness, I no longer pray

My bare feet bled on sands untread,
Leaving fragile imprints in pursuit of love long dead.

At seventeen, the world was wide,
A canvas vast, dreams yet untried.
No wrinkles carved by time or loss,
No tales of love or battles fought.

To be again at seventeen,
Would mean to trade the sights unseen,
The wisdom gained, the lessons learned,
For youthful days and hearts unburned.

Yet fifty years of paths untread,
The laughter shared, the tears we've shed,
These moments built a life unique,
A tapestry of joy and grief.

To wonder if the trade is fair,
To grasp at youth with silver hair,
Is to forget the beauty in,
The years that shape the soul within.

For though the young are filled with fire,
The elder's heart holds deep desire,
A balance struck through time's embrace,
A life well-lived, a gentle grace.

So while the thought may softly creep,
To yearn for youth, a wish to keep,
Embrace the years, both young and old,
For both bring treasures, tales untold.