In the beginning


In the shadow of our minds
there is a place where stars are born
for in the darkness
beneath the soil of solitude
in the caverns of sorrow and apprehension
there are moments
little feelings
little seedlings of knowledge
waiting to be born

for in the beginning
there was only shadow
and yet
what light shone upon what object
to create the shadow within our minds
where stars are born

There is a place filled with light
eager to seduce the passions of creati0n
into creating
and so, ever and on
this light escapes from its prison of darkness
to shine upon thought and so create imagination
and so create a reality
where stars are born

for in the beginning
there was only shadow
there was only light
and so to create shadow
there was only love
where stars are born


To find peace


The moon was once dust
before it became a light in the dark
before it coalesced into myth
before we gave it its hold upon us

and as I look up now
it becomes mystery
it becomes magical; alchemical
it becomes distant

How a Russian doll is encased in itself
so we have similar traits within us
so we have beatings of this and that
so we have a language which aches to be translated

and here I am distracted
as the trees outside my window, sing
as the sky sends down her music
as the hail reminds me to find peace

and this silence now as the meltings drip
is so much like the moon’s gentle dusting of silken shadows
is so much like a fluttering of wing upon air
is so much like time as it waits to be painted

and so the moon is just dust
as my blood is red frost
as my soul is dark rust
as my smile is untouched

and so to find peace
the silence must become noise
the light must become dark
the song must become silent

and the dance must remain within the moon

until your smile
touches mine

Love’s insanity, or the madness of love

How the clouds roil the sky’s calm
with their droplets of chaos
dancing in random madnessess of mythological movement

see how they tumble
how they swirl
how they create substance from separation
how they join the dots once more
only to lose them
to watch them fall
into the arms of Gaia’s embrace

and yet, sometimes they create more beauty
than anything imagined
for what is snow but a tenderness of the impossible
a softness of creation’s kiss
a togetherness of the possible
and a blanket of love’s insanity

for there we see the arena
a white opera performed in silence
waiting for the crunch of applause
waiting for arias to be sung by a midnight’s breeze
waiting for a mystery to unfold
and waiting for moonlight to reveal the elemental truth
of love

for what is love but a moment of snowfall
upon the minds of sanity …




A short note … I wrote this poem after watching an opera tonight by Giovanni Paisiello called “Nina, o sia La Pazza per Amore” (Nina, or the Girl Driven Mad by Love). It has no connection to the opera except for the madness and for love.

How bright the call


Golden pennies flutter in the breeze
until the wind steals them away

How silent is their fall
as the kiss of death gives freedom
(of a kind)

Some cling on relishing those burning kisses
enjoying the pain, perhaps, between life and death

Those who fall are banked up in the shadows
spent, worthless wet dust
(and yet they give life its meaning)

Soon the stark reality of time upon the path will feast
as the caterpillar feasts, filling its belly with a promise of eternity

The unlit candles wait for the fall of darkness
as church bells once more peal for the light

The distance between life and death
is measured in waves of destruction and echoes of love

How the force of beating hearts gives fire to the leaves
as the crushing surf of dark apprehension erodes the roots
(in vain, for love’s seed is strong)


How silent the fall
how dark the dance
how bright the call
of life’s romance

The love we are meant to be

How the rose petals its way to freedom
by reaching up to creation with its fragrance
and how the sky sends down its thanks
in joyous tears of life

and so the rose blooms
knowing how beautiful life is
and how, regardless of the thorns around her
she is simply free to be a rose

How the tree branches itself in time
in slow movements of its trusting presence
and how the wind speaks its soft thanks
by embracing the tree’s roughness

and so the tree grows
knowing how beautiful is the chaos of creation
and how, regardless of the storms around it
the tree is free to be a tree

How this world colours its way to peace
by remembering and creating history
and how tongues and hands paint thanks
by loving the created

and so our spirit evolves
knowing how beautiful is this thing called human(ity)
and how, regardless of the thorns around us
we are free to be

the love we are meant to be

Deep within


Candles bring with their dance of light
a certain kind of peace in the darkness
and there they create shadows
where the monsters live
and where the pitiful beat of change, aches to escape

The sorcery begins deep within
as the wax slows the ticking screams of time
and there
shadows awaken his soul’s dark remnants, of before

These malevolent madnessess of poetic strangulations
bring a curse upon him
and so he succumbs to the shadows of doubt
and the nakedness of fear

This peace in the darkness
this certain kind of, hope
drips to create patterns on the cold dark of his mind
where the monsters live
and where these creatures are screaming, deep within

and so dear friends
the wind is blowing beyond the window
bringing with it, remnants of tomorrow
where time is catching up with his pen
and where the mirror, reflects the candle flame’s


Such a moment as this

Such beauty in a raindrop
Such gentleness of sorrow
as each leaf gives up its last smile
Such a caress of her breath
as she kisses the skin of her creation

Such beauty in a raindrop
where within there is the elixir of life
waiting for such a moment as this

for what if life but a moment of joy
of possibilities, of growth
of love, of death
of beauty, of wonderment
of time

Such beauty in a raindrop
Such elegance of flight
as each feather, each wing rides the storm
Such a filigree of expression
as she creates her finest chaos

Such beauty, in moments like this …