Comrades in spiritual love


Battles in time and space
for peace, freedom and love
can be solved if only humanity realised
we are all one
we are all connected
we are all comrades in spiritual love

We are all the same skin


You are the music my soul aches for

Like the curves of a violin
your beauty lies
waiting for the music to kiss your soul to life
and then what is there but you
but you
but you are the music my soul aches for
and to have just a little moment of your time
blended with a little moment of mine
would create a beautiful soufflé of happiness
because your soul speaks within the deep of me
with such wondrous avenues of intensity
where flowers sway
and so I sleep upon a leaf of your heart
and like so many petals falling in scented tremblings of unreleased ache
I listen to the cry of your bow
as you play upon this earth in timid sways of softness and desire

The deep of your soul is a melody of rapture
waiting to be kissed with the passion it deserves
but you
with the softness of your kiss
upon the hard shell of my ache
would be like a snowflake kissing dragon fire

The music of your soul writes a duet within my soul
where only empty echoes reside
and lo, here is a song being painted
and as it paints it echoes in splashes against the walls of your heart
a song of the forest
a song of green
a tune with a feathered touch of passion
to echo, rattle and ripple against this cage of mine
to drift
to drift
but you
but you are the music my soul aches for

for the fragrance of your soul envelops my soul
until all that I am
is you
but you
but you
if only you would hold me on the edge of darkness
till we fall into a whisper spoken by the music of a birthing star

The eternal graces of profound love

Stringed hearts yearn for the release
from the ties holding them
and as they stretch to the nearest branches of reality
a single glint of colour
replicates their emotions
and so a heartbeat is born
to flourish into existence
into flames of alchemy
where the seeds of humanity reach for the light
the warmth, the consciousness of time
and the eternal graces of profound love

; and so a heartbeat is twinned

Morphean wanderings

The flight of time to the clock face of reality
is simply an example of pure unreality
where even something as irrelevant as a blade of grass
dipping against the breeze’s mid-day attentions to reflect a slither of light
is mistaken for an act of reality
when in reality, time is merely moving forward
as the universe breathes out its evanescent soul
to coalesce with the exhales of eternity

Thine feathers bleed the truths of love
floating, as is their want, in random caresses of desire
as their purity drifts in beauty and solitude

being fallen from on high they understand
the loneliness of love’s ache for love

And so it is
as winter gives way to spring
love’s invisible touch graces the many branches of time
giving rise to Morphean wanderings
in which souls become lost
in fragile intoxications of passion’s embrace
and in the confusions
of those tremulous touches of empathy
when sunrise meets moonrise
in synchronisms of magnetic imagination

and so the morning yawns

Great vestments of oak and shattered dreams
rise to declare themselves
and so sanctify
the truth of knowledge

How thine branches cradle the fallen
to form a nest of forgotten
; suspended, waiting for the green to become
life’s enveloping warmth

Naked shadows creak across the arena
to kiss and entwine
the fallen
and the forgotten

Empty tables welcome silent glances
into their atmosphere of solitude
almost as if they require the warmth of sight
to rid them of their reflected cold

As the crow returns a twig or two
little buds slow the days
with a silent stretch of Gaia’s time
… and so the morning yawns