Into the lofty paradise of a quiet
         mind
                          she goes
Focusing on eternity
     she breathes
     into each silent sphere
             with luminous delight !
Chakra orientation :
              she sits
             like a lotus  on a circular bed
              made of ancient gold and bronze .
Delving deeper than the
                        ocean floor
    inside a cavernous  place  
                         further still than
                God's pitch of stars
Inside this Utopian fairyland
                              of purant truth
                     Shangri-la
        the place of her new existence,
Her very own garden of Eden,
                                    more beautiful than
the promised land.

A storm lit path lies
Midst grey stone bright yellow rose
Warmth upon the heart

We were walking, the painter and I,
Across the plain and towards the hill.
The moon had waxed into her glory
Causing the zephyrs to sigh.

We rested awhile at the foot of the rise
Nestled in a comfortable silence.
The night moved on languid feet
Passion hidden under a serene guise.

We took the path on the dark leeward
My golden quill our only light.
The painter promised a spectacle
And anticipation fueled my climb

Cherry Blossoms swirled in the wind,
As we stood on silver bathed ground.
A man stood at the edge of the hill,
His hands on the railing, waiting.

Under the tree he stood.
The flowers hiding the wrinkles
Of his suit and his skin.
His gaze fixed upon the moon.

My friend and I sat against a boulder
And waited with him.
The wind whispered with the flowers
And the Sakura tree sang to the night.

The song was impossible,
Yet hear it we did.
Violins and keys, flutes and harps -
A haunting tune of longing.

And as the song rose,
A woman stood beside the man;
A bride clad in a moonlight gown,
Her veil of starshine trailing behind.

The man took her hand,
And the woman drew closer.
And groom and bride,
They danced among the flowers.

Wrinkles were smoothened
Trembling hands strengthened
Faltering feet trode sure
And wilting heart bloomed anew.

Happiness perfused the air.
Cruelly brief the phenomenon would be -
So the man knew, and chose to forget.
He held on to the past and danced.

We sat there, intruders and fools,
Too ashamed to look on,
Too enthralled to look away,
Until sleep hid them from our eyes.

The melody rains with the petals,
Tears dance with the smiles.
The waltz of the weary hearts
Lasts as long as the moon.

This lilting night
in a world still trembling,
streets sag with silence,
the hush tastes of smoke.

A crow cuts low,
black wing against orange,
leans into the wind,
folds, veers.

Above the trees,
the sky wears a copper bruise,
clouds thick as wool,
the light already retreating.

Air carries the edge of change-
sharp as bitten tin,
wet as stone on the tongue.

All sound brittle:
screen door whining,
tires on gravel,
a match struck to nothing.

your page turning,
the small sigh after,
your breath, mine,
keeping time with the dark.