We were there
long before--
the wooden bench
still remembers-

it was late autumn
evening was drawing near
fallen leaves were strewn
on the meadow-floor-

no words did we speak
nothing from life did we implore
how we wished we'd say no farewell
of each other we yearned for more-

here we are on this same old bench
so many tearful years had gone before
in the ripening of our love
new affections we still explore.

What is it that makes me miss
The lighter fluid on your lips. Toothaches from a temptress,
And her candy kiss. Arm’s elastics wrap me up. So foreign,
Is this human touch. Like a siren she swims and sings,
To lure me close enough to clutch. An ephemeral embrace,
That chews me out and spits me up.
Love eats hearts for lunch.

Rest, oh rest so sublime

as night drifts into the unknown

forgotten is weary time

this, the sojourn alone--



light, oh light so calm

all darkness on swift wings has flown

ah, sleep so welcome--  the sweetest balm

what the living have never ever  known

Art is the music of colours which dazzle so vividly before our eyes that we take it as even more real than life itself--
being intoxicated by its beauty, we want to gladly die unto it as this dying is a gift unto us and we ,being part of it, are made immortal.