in a room of unimaged beauty
with curtains woven
from threads of unused dreams
and carpets embroidered
by imaginings of crumpled poetry

songs of hope and fantasy
are left unsung
written on blank pages
carefully laid on the piano
whose keys are all black

here is served perfect tea
in exquisite porcelain cups
each place set with polished silver
giving no reflection

the Things That Might Have Been
are the only guests
they appear in their seats
translucent and shimmering
gaining solidity
staring at their perfect tea
in its exquisite porcelain cup

but they do not drink

if two materialize at the same table
they gaze at each other
with pleading eyes
needing with all their fragile existence
an answer

reasons may be exchanged
but not one of them ever
has an answer

they dissolve
hoping to return
for an answer

leaving behind their perfect tea
in its exquisite porcelain cup

in each shattered fragment
of time
we are forced apart

there is nothing of me
that does not cry out
for everything of you

falling
unfading
timeless
towards paradise

fingertips streaming
spirals of howling light

beyond the speed of ecstasy
flying blind

knowing unseen
the unbroken strand
that binds two
through boundless halls
of celestial wonder

skimming across astral seas
split the surface
peel back the facade
plunge beyond the deep

spread your wings
for me

envelope me

ride the cresting wave
rushing inside of you
through my tantric eye

we coruscate
and transmute
constantly becoming

infinitely and intricately
being

converged

how many tears must be shed
to baptize our parting

do I not cling
tightly enough
while the clock
ticks away life

are the marks left
on your skin
when I cannot release you
gone too soon

must the bruises
in our flesh
be as deep
as those in our hearts

shall I shatter my bones
and yours
in our last embrace

tear at our bodies
till we bleed out

give to the torch
the remains

so the ruin
of our outer selves
will reflect
that which lies hidden
within

She sits by darkened hearth
No warmth now issues forth
Her tattered clothes look more like rags than a dress
But still she carries on
Even when hope is gone
For a princess is a princess nonetheless

If dancing at the ball
Or scrubbing floor and wall
In scullery or in carriage for a ride
Hanging linen out to dry
Or set on throne most high
None of that can ever change what is inside

For it’s not silken gown
Not scepter, sword, or crown
Nor poise to rule court with great ability
Look closer and you’ll find
A heart that’s good and kind
Are the signs of grace and true nobility

Of palaces she dreams
White horses matched in teams
With jewels agleam and in its place each tress
Though life may be unjust
She is regal in the dust
For a princess is a princess nonetheless

there is warmth only in shadow
for there alone
do I find you

the glare of sunlight
pushes against us
and we are forced
to part

in the brightness of day
as the world luxuriates
drawing close to the radiance
being brought to life
I am stung by winter’s breath
shivering in the brilliance
of a summer afternoon

only in the darkness
is there life for me

only where the stars do not see
am I completed

only there
do we exist as one

hidden
from all the world
we shun the day

and embrace

mantled
in the welcoming
shroud of night

time steals up soft in autumn’s haze
through fallen leaves and frosted morn
no longer smiles through summer days
bears dreadful gaze of mercy shorn

scribes lines upon youth’s winsome face
and brings the ache of stiffened joint
gives halting stride and slower pace
age piled like leaves does thus anoint

yet in thine eye dwells springtide’s bloom
in ardor’s dance is lightened tread
warm voice dispels autumnal gloom
at gentle touch are decades fled

for love knows naught of count of days
let the years flow as they will
unclouded passion’s flames yet blaze
I shall be thy lover still