rusted, still sharp…
waiting, waiting
for the hands that till;
at peace in the knowing,
my destiny, my path!
a simple tool
in the garden of life!
and woke up to find
all the great cities empty!
so i went back to the hills,
searched beneath trees,
and inside of caves.
beneath the stones
on the riverbanks…
in the deserts, atop the mountains,
till exhausted and spent,
i sat down and closed my eyes.
i dreamed you loved me again,
and woke up to find,
people walking the streets,
and cars passing by.
America, my lover!
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making my way through the trees.
small branches lashed against my face,
i could feel stone beneath my feet.
and somewhere near, but far, the sound of water.
wrapped in the stillness of night,
that has its own sounds,
its own smells.
haunted by something i couldnt define,
almost the feeling of being stalked.
i finally made my way to a moonlit clearing.
a flock of small birds rose in front of me.
in the field were children,
different colors, different languages,
all different ages…
children, playing together.
i looked closer…
and noticed their eyes…
something wrong, something odd.
a steel hard voice spoke in my ear…
‘these children have never seen daylight,
and never will…’
i awakened with a start.
one word on my lips…
CHOICES!
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to prepare
for cruel tasks
in daylights shimmer
to succeed.
The ghosts
in the deep waves
they duly screamed,
but missed the glimmer
of the crap we
then appealed.
He was a lawyer
he had studied volume nine,
but was quite ignorant
drank wheaten beer, not wine,
and when she came
across the bitumen
as such,
he took her hand
and (as a first)
he craved her touch.
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Not as you seemed
When you were late unkind
And blind
To my eyes’ pleading for a debt long due,
But touched and true
And all inclined
To tenderest fancies on love’s inmost theme.
How sweet you were to me and ah, how kind
In that dear dream!
I felt
Your lips on mine
Mingle and melt,
And your cheek touch my cheek.
I, weak
With vain desires and askings for a sign
Of love divine,
Found my grief break,
And wept and wept in an unending stream
Of sudden joy set free, yet could not speak,
Dumb in my dream.
I knew
You loved me then,
And I knew too
The bliss of souls in Heaven
New–shriven,
Who look with pity on still sinning men,
And turn again
To be forgiven
In the dear arms of their God holding them,
And spend themselves in praise from morn till even
Nor break their dream.
I woke
In my mid bliss,
At midnight’s stroke,
And knew you lost and gone.
Forlorn
I called you back to my unfinished kiss,
But only this
One word of scorn
You answered me, “’Twas better loved to seem
Than loved to be, since all love is forsworn,
Always a dream.”