Nevermore

Nevermore

Sorrow filled eyes, unseeing,
blindly lost in thought,
groping heedlessly in the void
for what is consigned to oblivion,
and yet, still endlessly sought.

Unseen, neglected, disregarded,
it calls in silent beckoning
to those who are left sightless
to the absolution of its tender reckoning.

It whispers in benevolence abounding,
to the world weary worn heart compounding
in tones of gentle love resounding
its voice speaks in resonance sounding,
"Nevermore!" to its mournful accounting.

But to weeping eyes that do not see
and covered ears that have yet to hear,
still it waits in humble repose,
abiding oh so near,
to the wounded heart
that cries out in vain,
in the hopes of being the salve
to its ever scorching and burning pain,
a single light unto the dark,
a gentle hand of heaven's mark,
to guide the way and illuminate the path,
out of one's own hellish wrath.

So listen well upon the score,
to the raven that cries "Nevermore!",
so that one day too you may open the door,
allowing you finally to rise up and soar.

A Place Beyond

A Place Beyond

There is a place,
between the space of a heartbeat drumming,
thump thump--
thump thump--
thump thump--
A place beyond fate's infinite reaches
and time's eternal cascade,
where single grains of sand
trickle ever downward, receding,
like an ebbing flow of liquefied crystal,
shimmering.and glistening in the light.
And in this place,
hidden from the view of prying eyes,
where mortals do not dare to tread,
and seraphic beauties of celestial wonderment
are forbidden entrance,
once -
twice -
always and evermore -
there is but one who stands
within its tender embrace.
One,
a multitude of untold score,
united in bountiful grace beyond reckoning.
And it is a place beyond imagining,
beyond perception,
beyond the kin of corporeal and ethereal alike.
It has no name.
It has no substance.
And yet, it encompasses all of creation and beyond,
touching the heart of everything that
was,is, and ever shall be.
Do you dare to tread upon
the path certain uncertainty,
with faith in hand,
to lay to rest that which is preconceived,
that which is assumed,
and that which is known,
for the space of a heartbeat which calls,
thump thump -
thump thump -
thump thump -
for it calls,
it beckons for you to rise up
and welcome its warm embrace.
And for you....
it waits eternally
until the time arrives
when you can 'see' it.

Love ~ Infinite & Unrefined

Love ~ Infinite & Unrefined

A singular emotion,
engulfing, encircling, enrapturing,
consuming ~
taking the heart from
silent quietude, in peaceful repose,
to fiery inferno's embrace,
with phoenix wings aflame at the helm,
as energy becomes kinetic
pounding down upon the walls of restraint
with willful demands for release, without censure,
and formidable force cascading
into incandescent fireworks of illumination,
clamoring in fervent appeal.

And in the space of a single heartbeat,
one pulsating strike of the drums,
walls recede and fall away,
crumbling into incoherent thoughts,
which swirl around the heart,
like dust upon the wind
never truly touching what beckons forth.

Overwhelming, this solitary emotion
overcomes and overpowers
without might of force,
for its gentle throbbing embraces,
so completely....
so totally....
as to bring angels of seraphic beauty
to their knees,
blinded in reverent tears of celestial bliss
as they stand at the apex of heaven's solemn majesty,
for it is a flood like no other,
which stays the hand of the dark,
with tidal current after tidal current,
wave after glistening wave
of pure unrefined emotion.

In the space of a moment,
it comes calling,
so listen closely,
for it knows no age,
it knows no gender,
it knows no bounds,
It is unconditional and limitless~
Infinite.

The Dawn Unseen

The Dawn Unseen

It is morning and the sun has shown itself,
gently overtaking the lingering shadows
which cling to the ground and creep along the path,
from the night before.

But still, it is bleakest winter
within the trenches of a hollowed out heart,
for no light shines down upon this face,
and no shimmer of dawn reflects in these eyes,
for the beauty of the morn is marred
and its cascading radiance shorn,
in a cloud of incandescent translucence,
trickling a path of despair,
morose in its melancholy,
down a face, shuttered and forelorned to the world.

And beside this tragic creature,
fragile and frail in figure and frame,
just beyond eyes of sightless wonder,
with vision narrowed to a single point
somewhere out in space,
sits in silent reverence,
a friend of comfort offering up love without behest.

A quiet friend, who does not speak,
offering up words that hold no truth,
nor does this friend offer up so simply
a shoulder to lean on
or a hand of tender support.
This friend sits mute,
unmoved to sight,
letting their mere presence be,
the kindest reminder,
of lonliness's illusionary grip
upon a battle scarred and wounded heart,
to say, with words unspoken, in simple terms,
"You are not alone because I am with you always,
whether you recognize me here or not. I will be here waiting,
for the time to come when you are ready."

And so they sit, together and apart,
upon the sandy shores of dawn's beauteous bequest,
in silence, save the roaring waves
churning a torrent of unuttered remorse,
as shadows recede into the dark,
and the hand of twilight is stayed till another time.

The Battlefield Of Honor

Blade met blade,
as sword met sword
upon the battlefield of honor
as glinting folded steel clashes
against glistening folded steel
in a battle to the death.
Anger and vengeance surge
from each opponent,
while pulsating strength flows
with perspective triumph
as blood is drawn from
each stoic combatant.
Concentration becomes centered
as focus is forced upon
the swaying movements of the sword
with the singular purpose being
to divine what the combatant's
next move will be,
in order to perry his thrust
or rise to the occasion and
take that moment to attack.
And so, in the end, as one
stands victorious over the other,
leaving naught but the
severed head of his enemy as proof,
cherry blossoms flow by in the breeze
across the blood soaked battlefield grounds
gently touching it, but never meeting it,
to bring peace to the war torn lands
and tranquility to those who walked away
with blood stained hands.
The duty of honor has been fulfilled
and the lost combatant
died an honorable death.

By The Window, She Waits

She would sit by the window draped
within a perpetually parked wheelchair.
The gloomy room surrounding her
was somber, drab, and gray,
leaving those visitors who would enter in a
dark, melancholy, and almost funereal state.
But even as family and friends trickled in,
forced to transverse the
vacuous and oppressive lackluster room,
in order to visit, upon occasion,
her in her dingy little hovel,
she does not see them,
for she is not cognizant of them,
for her listless eyes are vacant,
and her pallid complected face expressionless.
So even as gentle hands touch hers
in a sweet tentative gesture of love,
her face remains stoic, blank and indifferent,
for she is uncomprehending within
the hollow barren oblivion of her mind,
devoid of emotions, memories, and feelings
of love, passion, remembrance, and friendship.
So there she sits starring blankly out
into the cloudy overcast ocean of sky
as rain trickles streams of water
down the panes of glass,
as though heaven weeps the tears
she can no longer shed,
and the stagnant room around her
slowly becomes her
sepulcher of solemn desolation,
alone.

Until the day, when the beeping stops,
and the drum of the heart beats no more,
and she rises upon infinite wings eternal,
to be carried to a place where
music sounds and love flows forth
and the heavens open up to rejoice the coming,
of a reborn spirit of angelic beauty,
newly made whole,
laying cradled in the resplendence
of the gentle loving arms
of a Goddess Mother, beyond compare.

The Onieric Muse Of Sominal Wisdom

Upon the darkening road we walk,
in the shaded greenery of evening,
as shadows blossom and bloom
to cover the world in a
blanket of serene slumber
serenaded by the chirping crickets,
the babbling brooks, and an
angel's tender lullaby sung
upon the gentle breeze calling....
calling forth sominal moments
from the telestic unconscious mind
where mysteries are unraveled
and wisdom is bound within
the Oneiric Muse's muted whisperings
to be reborn, to be reawakened
into the thread of divine inspiration
and seen with refined clarity,
in the light of a new day's dawning Sun.

What sophianic thoughts will
find their way from the selenic world
where our spirits walk in slumber's tide,
into the realm of the now,
in the moment of today,
into this singular reality bound in illusion
and entangled in the lattice work of
the Tapestry of Life and the Web of Infinity,
in our nobilary quest to rediscover
the truths which lay veiled
beyond the curtain of our own demise.

What gifts do we bring back to this plain,
as our spirits return from journeys
embarked upon in realms yet unknown to us?
What treasures?
What epiphanies?
Only those who seek to know the truth,
will ever discover them from within.
Seek and you shall find it,
through patience, knowledge and understanding.
And the wisdom of truth will be revealed,
through time's immortal infinite hands.
Seek.