Kairos

In this world of concrete forms,
The roots and the weeds conspire,
Fissuring seems in roads and walks,
Artistic anarchy reaches higher,
As blithe in step the passersby,
In cranial space fail to admire,
The gift.

When a respite from distraction —
Being a time where time does fail
To lord it over my harried self —
Tears of leaves through light do sail,
And fleeting with the gentle breeze,
Sweetly interrupts the tired travail,
Adrift.

As a friend lingers with the leaves,
Paused to gaze in contemplation,
Their golden hues play in the light,
And ushers epiphany or incarnation,
While they rustle o'er roads and walks,
Deepens my vision and soft elation,
Uplift.

And just as quickly, as if a ghost,
Had once congealed and dissipated,
Time resumed its persistent pace,
Compelling with agenda unabated,
Still the leaves in softest rustle,
Echo truth in which we are created,
and sift,
A lament soul.

Single Shines the Light

Below a coal, colorless, cavernous sky,
Clouds settle in and sit o'er the vale,
A single slit single shines the light,
A single star extends white and pale.
This harbinger in the dark softly elicits,
The starry hosts the night may unveil.

As I walk in places dark and dangerous,
Where fiber, bone and soul are weighed,
For demon moguls to morsel and parcel,
Still – the coils of shade are stayed,
As yet single shines the single light,
For a breath, the nightmare is allayed.

And though light shines in the darkness,
The enduring darkness will not overcome,
As single shines the light will find,
An eye, a soul, that will not succumb.
Though melancholy masks such a company,
Angelic amity in light too bright to plumb.

In fields of stars,
The night is dawned,
In hope,
In life,
In love.

My Love

There is no place you have not touched,
Lightness of being, foolish and sweet,
I bared my all and held nothing back,
And in body and bliss we dared to meet,
My love.

There is no wound you have not seen,
Bowing my neck for fangs or for kiss,
I chose to gamble and bet all on trust,
Blind the eyes that see nothing amiss,
My love.

There is no place you have not pained,
As pain received and pain bestowed,
Like a predator that stalked at hope,
And charged to pain what was not owed,
My love.

There is no wound you have not aggrieved,
With trauma to trauma — until I cower,
The eyes of love heed not the beloved,
Sometimes the sweetest wine will sour,
My love.

Is there no place for the healing salve?
This perfect armor is tight and cold,
And shut from the reach of pain or grace,
Or the tenderness of together growing old,
My love...

Lost...

Soul Dust

As tributaries choke — oh miserly skies —
Roots bronze their flora and tendril deep,
Groping for the waters that deeply seep,
That verdant leaves again unfurl and arise.

Where rivers carve folds and deep valleys,
Life — opportune sprite — burgeons as water
Slowly meanders while the air grows hotter,
And painting green these fainting arteries.

The encroaching desert, willful, whittles,
Gnawing living ribbons into shreds of green,
Fraying spirit from biome and from gene,
'Til all is soul dust and anguish of angels.

These winds of wraith scorch my oasis,
Burning to char the sacred and the wild,
My waning soul is mournful and unbeguiled,
Bedraggled in dust, hands open to graces,
Yet unseen.