At The Onset Of Infinity

Does the intimacy of your eyes
speak as loudly to the sea,
as much as it screams wildly,
close against my wanton breath?

Does the delicacy of your touch
cause e’en the Earth to quake,
as much as it sears a thunder,
to surround and pierce my flesh?

I have thus forsaken all pains
left by that once scalding sun,
as it becomes now the catalyst
for the heat your kiss confers.

I have thus excluded my need
to witness stars twinkle at night,
as your eyes now steer my gaze
deeper and farther into infinity.

 

Age, Do Bear With Me, Thus

Age, do bear with me, thus,
tarry that my fancies stain,
and ebb with day and night;

‘ere long gone sorrow cools,
but with a tender sweetness,
do I, but in this vein, delight;

‘ere consuming of stone days,
burdened ill by wilding hands,
age, spawn yet more ignite;

that I may feel the burning
of a newly darkened sky,
and of its tear-stained light;

that with each falling rain,
does my soul speak to me,
searing its wisdom so bright;

and I listen to its sad song,
but one which might heal,
and give to my mind sight;

with a raw, tempered rain,
tears cling to wanton flesh,
as tho’ by its inherent right.

 

An Awakening Of Air

Let not the air I breathe be somniferous;
for I have not yet awakened in my mind,
nor have I yet seen the expanse of sky
from whence it came, and must return;
and I have not wandered far enough
from this home which tarries me nigh,
‘ere I feel the earth beneath my feet,
and bear the weight of untrodden soil,
which marries me to understanding why;
let not this air I breathe be somniferous,
so breath shall be carried on the wind,
and by end of day, shall breeze have sigh.

 

How Her Eyes Had Shone

And o’, how her eyes had shone,

like stars upon this crystal lake,

when, at twilight, o’er still waters,

did those distant beams of light

dance wild upon a glassy surface,

and shone as tho’ a thousand suns

had but imprinted upon the water,

and so, gave such light to her eyes.

 

And So, I Breathe

I breathe,

so that this air

shall not be forsaken,

that in this moment of life,

the wind shall not soon release me;

for I was much younger then,

and took for granted the air,

that it had called upon

the child in me

to breathe.

 

Lest I Hold True A Memory

Take from my soul this present world,
let it bear no fruit from out my mind,
for I still do but live and breathe
within the sweet tide of yesterday;
its mem’ry lingers, sweetly mellow,
holding me soft, so warm and kind,
its weight ‘ere etched into my hands,
and e’er, enfolded, thus shall it stay.

Tho’ such mem’ry does tarry uneasy,
shall I be made of it more in light,
by its guard, its hold, and its sanity,
and by its resolute want of staid;
shall I burden myself with outcomes,
shall fancy take hold, or take flight,
shall I bear sword for duels unkind,
or shall familiar melody be played.

‘Ere, tho’ but in vain, do I still hope,
as rain sheds off from thirsty flower,
as is my sullen mind yet left adrift,
unharried, its way, so too, undone;
‘ere, shall this listless summer dawn,
wither away with each passing hour,
then, let my prior night’s keen aware,
be as a heated strain upon the sun.