Among the greens
the blue
blue light of her soul
shines her song
of loneliness
The blue light of her soul
gives pause to reflect
upon the way of
time's immortality
It is how we reflect
that allows her to sing
those waves of solitude
Her song reaches
farther into the night
Where we need her light.
If only the sun
would infuse me
with some of itself
so I could see
the pace of time
the stretch of light
its soul of dark
our fragile flight
is there a difference
I often wonder you know
whether it’s
just my imagination – my fears
or perhaps there is no difference between light
and dark
shadows appear inside my already gloom ridden castle
whether or not my light is on
the difference is paper thin. Sharp
enough to bleed iron
the named storm wakes me
with its whistles and drones
I sit here listening
trying to remember its name
I forget
but did I really take much notice
so of course I haven’t forgotten
if its name passed me by
That crack in the ceiling
that scar in my mind
that sinking
… softness of you
once
it’s futile
there’s nothing to remember
nothing to forget
nothing
but once
I saw the light
and it was blinding
blinding to my eye
and then again I saw it three
in both which equal six
An image there I could not fathom
hidden in the veins
was it silver
was it dark
or was it Lucifer’s ark
Blind I remained
a few seconds more
till sight came back to me
and there I blinked
into her eyes
her smile eternity
Lucifer his light banished
his form hidden from view
for what can he
with all his beauty
offer mortal soul as me
for I am drowned
in human form
as we are all to be
except by chance
we stumble upon
a smile of eternity.
*
***
*
How it is these poems arrive sometimes baffles me. Early this morning while drinking coffee in bed I read Mihai Eminescu’s poem Lucifer and those words sent my mind back to yesterday at the eye infirmary where I had to have my eyes photographed. Fully dilated, those bright lights dug deep into my skull. I saw veins and weird things for a split second or two and thought nothing of it until now except for her smile of course.
I wanted to feel its creation.
It only lasted the short time
until the wax
expired
to reveal the truth of art
for art is born of darkness
in the cold reaches of mystery
where myth blends with reality
and where imagination’s atoms
shiver in perpetual flights of expired
dreams.
I wanted to understand.
In this cocoon
I shield myself
from both darkness and the light
I shrink away
from all those, things
which suffer me to sight
I close my heart
my desires too
for what reasons I cannot say
I know your eyes
I’ve felt your heart
but here inside is a monstrous fay
A dewy rose of innocence
your soul of shade and shine
tempts this broken gate to avow
… but I am rusted to the bone
A Gap In The Clouds 