Life’s Spiral

The

Day

And night

Bring chaos,

Entropy. Beauty

Is revealed to me, decay is

Not what it seems to be, giving life much more to see.

Perfection plain to me, one point six one eight zero three, spiral of new beginning.

Advertisements

Huntley

Where the lights that go before us tred,
In darker days their absence led.
A flame out too soon, not quite begun,
When one cannot see their first setting sun,
Where the reaper concedes to angels
To ferry this small soul.
In lifes webs many tangles,
There’s one strand so bitter, and beautiful to behold.

Dedicated to the daughter of my friends Kendra and Jurian. May she rest in peace.

To Sleep Alone

photo-1486401049719-c73f3d070305
I cannot sleep alone,
Here on the floor and dreaming.
With no one here beside me warm,
With no one here now breathing.
I cannot hear the breath you take.
“Come back!” The void hears, screaming.
And with a final sigh defeated
I resign. My heart stops beating.
Cursed to go on living in unrequited love,
Here I’ll stay.
No one will hear me breathing.

So Tired of Sitting

javier-canales-160671.jpgMore and more he wanted to show,
How he hated the way I’ve grown
And lack of compassion shown,
But this dim light.
Here swallowing fear for so long,
The darkness has dimmed the sight
He once used to view hope.
And in it’s absence, he cried.

She wanted to love me more,
She said she could not before
I shed my despair. She says: “Just try!”
But I see no love in those eyes,
She lies.

Stay down. The conductor waits,
To preform another movement.
I’ll try to guess what that is.
So tired of sitting.
So tired of sleeping awake.

A Light Embracing Ruin

A breath of entropy,
A bright glow,
A light embracing ruin.
Staring into flames I see,
Not much more than smoke.
I find a space that truth’s in.
In darkness, home.
The world’s alone.
Each orange one hugs the fallen.
The fire has me,
Enraptured to see.
A light embracing ruin.

No Gold 

I climb above clouds
Still can see no greater thing
Than what was below

Unnecessary
To ascend to heights. Almost
Was hidden gold missed

I go below clouds
There is no gold in the sky
I’ll love what I have.

Bone Garden

splintah-59104.jpg
A garden of bones,
Planted in stone.
Living are the seeds sown,
Decay: germination’s home.
Bones become as the flower blooms,
And blooming into a flower unseen,
Mice are this flowers bees.
This garden of bones is no tomb.