11.17.2008

Ah, She!


    Ah, She.  Most glorious Bright star,

       Shining outward her sinews of vaporous Sun’s light,

           Streams of ever spreading rivers.


    It is She who grants the kiss, who bursts 

       In white-orb bloom slowly, Soft mists of Making 

          Where the subtle prepares a bed for brighter rays to grow.


    But She, now she is lost, frozen in white snow,

       Peaceful pillow of sleeping vaporous light, which fell once

           In slow syrupy rain, a colony of waiting wombs..


    And in moments when the thaw pierces her 

       still beating heart, a great cry echoes over the vast throes of 

           her sorrowful ocean.  She, lost one still, in the snow.


    Who then will be her rousing one, to softly wake her

         With such yearning, within Golden arms of

             Un-yielding Light?

 

    Her Breath, sweet breath I have heard, heard it rushing

        Over the earth’s budding in secret delight, heard it rousing 

            The Shadows to dance with her bright and blossoming Wishes


    Perhaps it is her enticing whispering in frozen dreams,

        To escort her at last, dear shadows, to the cavernous realms

            Of Waiting’s Ballroom and Persephone’s rule.


    Or does She wait for the greatest of all

To Open her eyes with a burst of Passionate Urging 

     More powerful and far-reaching, more glorious and eternal, 

                 A kiss with a span un-knowable within these rushing webs,

                    These streaming waters and this white Snow.

11.16.2008

In The Echoing Scents of Morning

 

  In the echoing scents of morning, a ceaseless and Bright Fragrance

    Bursts forth softly, 

      As if to say from the slumbering dew of Night;

        Awake in Fullness!  Arise into the Fresh vapors 

           which are gently stirring earthen Clouds 

               into Chariots of Heavely Out pouring!


    For within this divine Quiet, the Dawn, 

      Mistress of un-veiling she is, 

        Un-masks herself in silence, 

           And Drawing up in splendour her sword, golden hued, 

              Whose sheath is the very misted breath of dreaming, 

                 Drives herself deeply into your own sleeping. 

                  

    And even still, her power remains hidden 

      Beneath the lulling sombre blankets of Night.

        Indeed, throughout all of eternity, these veils and bright blossoms have 

          Resounded out of their secret and Woven interplay, 

            Un-furling and re-curling into Timeless song,

              Which is the very song of your own Bursting forth, sweet Child.

   

      So within the Womb of True timelessness, 

        And within your aching breast, 

          Break open the Glow-laden heart, 

            Whose abundant and over-ripe fires and sorrows

              Are the Fruits of a single Tree in Ceaseless Branching  

                Whose fingertips kiss the Elysian Lake in never-ending.

      

             And Watch, you, as the great outpouring 

                Streams and Carves into all things

                   Blossoming out, and out, and out.. 

Rain outside the Window Pours


     Rain outside the window pours,

        A soft cascade of un-claimed wishes

           They fall, 


                and Wait


                     for recognition.


     I was small when first the rain streamed 

         through wind's wide whispers

            It was blood

               I knew

                  Escaped from flesh,

   

    Embracing the winter rose in always budding.

         It was her dissolution,

            into the pure droplets of potent sheality

              a veiled mistress of alchemy.


       Now the un-seen blanket spreads earthwide, galaxy-wide,   

          Endless 

             and all at once, the minds-eye opens.

               A mother's whispering touch, 

                  soothing, 

                    Vastly invisible,

                       Envelopes and stills...



            

11.13.2008

For Drowning's Sake


It was tears that broke her Softly,

  through Veils that dove in and out of the realm of Density, 

     And when Veils turned to towering walls, and Visions to       

       Darkness vast and impenetrable,

      Dewed Strings would flicker deftly away, with the

    Petals of Drownings last Embrace.  

  It is this moment, she touches her Wooden limbs for the first time..  

It is here, she becomes aware of 

  her mortal Savagery.


 She had hung herself lengthwise, Lovingly,

  from the throat, and from the Gleaming crown of her head,

   Because Blessed tears were falling gently from everyplace, 

     And they surrounded her, 

       like Serendipitous and gilded visions.

 

'Each point of starlight will break me softly'  she knew.

  And so she beat inside her heart,

    little Passions of dropping dew,

     Those Luscious dances of drowning 

    Pulled by the strings of Starlight's 

  Violent and Glorious explosions.


And the emergence of Sweet Morning's light 

  From the mouths of Embryonic puppets

   Is all that is heard of those that break open from Within,

     a song of pregnancy, of the soul's Infinite seeing,

      of the Spiraling formation of Stars

       That lie within Passion's soft, hidden Fury.


12.22.2007

Mistress of Mourning

  Light seeps through timeless, encoded shadow,
               Pre-dawn,   
                            Sacred,
                                     Withdrawn...

    She is the hooded and Veiled lady,
       Who holds the vastness of deep and Timeless Devotion
          Within her Blessed, and sorrowful gaze.
   
    Ah, but how anticipated filligree overlays her glances
      Which fall gently over the whole of earth and sky;
         A fabled and fantastic blanketed frenzy of Sacred sabotage,
   
    Glow-laden unforseen pathways,
                                                        Sunken nexii,
                                                                        Atlantisian nodes..