.
.      .
     .   .         .  .      .     
.   .     .        .
Snow kisses the sleepy mountains,
draping them with sheets of white.
Flakes drift down into the vales,
jewels sparkling in the full moon light.
A simple crystallised drop of water
delightfully whirls on a gentle breeze,
alighting softer than an eyelash kiss,
to find a home upon the trees.


© Pagan Paul (04/12/17)

Once I traveled
Back in time
In an attempt
To put things
  Back on track...
Chopped off the head
Of all evil
But the head
  Eventually grew back...
Rewinding time
Even further
I forgot a thing or two
Something about
Something I'd done
Somewhere in time with you....

.
Tunnels of crimson, splits the vision
as passion cruises through misty time,
the journey of the mage, passing through
the portals of seconds, the doors of millennia.

To encounter the turbulence, feel the butterflies
that threaten ill and ***** up minutes.
Chronology moves in pan-dimensions,
tempered to conformity, trapped in a clock.

The guardian of day and night, corrupted.
At journeys end, a travellers rest
parades upstanding to purvey its solace,
beckoning the beacon to sally forth.

Light space, occupied with vaccuum stars.
A macrocosm of possibilities, caves of wonder,
sends the horizon to eclipse blue moons.

In contrast, green symbols of pure abandon
triumph in ancient games of catching mist.
And the bed of Truth, a complete Lie fact.


© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)