Hey
when I was sobbing
with tears running
endlessly, like rivers
waters falling into seas,
all I wanted was,
for you to pick me up,
hold me
hug me
and stop the tears' flow
with a deep kiss.

But,
I listened
to echoes of your footsteps
heard the door banging shut,
knowing you will return
on your time
with roses to console
tears that have gone dry.

Now,
how can I tell, how
that moment's emptiness
will never be filled
for important to you was
NOT  ME
but something else.

countless voices
cry to life
the giver
seeking, begging
give us
'more, more
and yet more',
till they hear
life saying,
'I shall give
when I receive'.

between life and death
life stares
and so do we
silence and sound
we ask each other
' what did we give?'

I have been driven mad
Looking for the words
That will enevitably set me free
Then I thought of a thing that truly must be

The incantation to break the shackles
Was never owned by me
The secret in the poems
Is that the sacred words are another's

Puzzle boxes writing desperately
Searching high and low
For a solution to their mystery
Only to find the key is a lover

Of ancient words and rhythms
The passion for magic in writing
I know this because I found truth
Within the winding words of another.

Its quite the beautiful night.  Not a cloud in the sky nor a jealous moon to ruin it all.  Just me and the stars.  I hear some instrumental intimacy.  A look at you from below.  Above and beyond past the end of thoughts.  You simply look back and smile with your resonating light.  You fire my wonder, and you play your cosmic song to me.  Because I am also a star in your sky.

Three years she grew in sun and shower;
Then Nature said, ‘A lovelier flower
  On earth was never sown;
This child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
  A lady of my own.

“Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse: and with me
  The girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
  To kindle or restrain.

‘She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
  Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
  Of mute insensate things.

‘The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
  Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the maiden’s form
  By silent sympathy.

‘The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
  In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
  Shall pass into her face.

‘And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
  Her ****** ***** swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
  Here in this happy dell.’

Thus Nature spake—The work was done—
How soon my Lucy’s race was run!
  She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
  And never more will be.