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I miss the air, the sky, the night
The way the sun shone so bright
The warmth of the grass and your arm as we lay
Together, as one, in this way we stay

The passionate words exchanged in the quiet,
Solemn silence which brings us delight
And the simplest touch dispels all the grey
Which clouds our judgement, the cause of dismay

Time fades, dissaray
Words lost, Moments gone
Left in the remnants of what we were
Is the future of what we could be
But separate,
Is where we'll be.

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Just musing...

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Sometimes I look across a room, and think maybe it might be you
But memories remind me there
To never hope in what could be
But tread carefully
For love is deep,
And maybe it's too deep for me.

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Tis not a dying sun...

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I sit here, watching as the scarlet sun fades beneath the dim horizon,
Yea, that same sun which other poets have described as dying!
Yet to speak of such is heresy, for the sun is not dead, but merely lying in slumber,
Laying its head upon the crest of the Earth and the heart of Humanity

And did Solomon so set to divide a single child,
As have we when we watch the day transform into the night?
Lost in the loss of the light and the expanse of the pitch-black darkness,
Is that the night bears its own birth of a kind much similar to the day's.
A new beginning for many, in what is perceived as an end
That which is so obscurely hidden under the sun's encompassing glare
Becomes obvious when presented with the moon's solemn stare.

Sleep, oh, sleep, sweet sun!
And dream of the day, of the trees and the plants;
The night will bear its solemn task well,
And in darkness show what light couldn't tell.

Maybe it is human nature to fear that which we do not know
But I propose another reason for our flight,
That in dividing the brilliant day from the corruptible night,
We have created a monster of that which is simply devoid of light.
Should darkness truly disguise all that we fear, in a black shroud?
Or is it simply waiting to unravel the beauty that's yet to be found?

So sleep, sleep ever on, sweet sun,
And we shan't lament your simple passing
For night or day, true light or true grey
We will be here,
As ever,
Content in the lasting shade,
Of nature's simple countenance.

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Writing is my antidote but it's also my poison

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I wonder if I returned there
Where the road met the sky
So that cloud and fog and rain and earth collide
Woven together in perfect harmony,
Where the body and the soul are one and the same
Would it still be the place I saw,
With you close by?
Dreaming of the edge of a cliff,
Doesn't take me back there the same way
As dreaming of you did
But still I feel the rush of the wind in my hair,
As I flew down interstate by interstate
And looked to see you, laying there
Sound asleep.
Did I ever deserve such a moment's reprieve?
Or was it my curse to be with you there,
For only a moment it was
And I still have a lifetime to be spent.
That I should regret the rest of my days
Because I knew what heaven and bliss was for a glimpse of time
Then watched it float away.

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Another Poem

Just about winter.
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The wintry fog is upon us
The chill air to pierce through skin and bone,
And transfer unto us a little of its deference
A mist that whispers of deep dissent
that fall should be gone so quickly that
we must now face the cold again

The leaves all hang in carfeful balance,
But they float down, steadily, to reach the ground
Robbed, bereft of their preferred stations
and left to mourn the loss of oblation,
So far gone and so far fallen,
From higher ascents,
Of which they were begotten

And mankind too, walks upon a plain
Not quite the one he first embarked upon
But travels ownward in sight of that light
which once was seen, but now left forgotten
Like the fog of a dream once known
But now left unrealized by "awakening"
Yet still, steadily stumbling towards that field of origin
Man, unaware of how far fallen, but seeing the mountain
Of great ascent
Rises above himself constantly, though never reaching,
Remembers the world as it used to be,
Slowly,
Step by step,
Remembering and rediscovering
That life which is life and that light which is light
That truth which is truth
That which breathes and animates and perpetuates
Existence from the night.

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