The morning dawn awakes, so do I
I know this much does not change day to day.
In my journeys through the night I pass by
Field of memory I can’t keep they say.
One flower picked, and I’m accused a thief
Tell me, who’s the real owner of my field?
Of my own will, can’t keep one thought so brief,
Then by whose orders are these vault doors sealed?
Nighttime. No rest for the weary it seems.
Where journey after restless journey through
The confines of these labyrinthine dreams,
Leaves me not any closer to the truth.
These are dreams I won’t remember I fear,
I see there will be no rest for me here.
Posted in Personal, Sonnets
Tagged dawn, day, door, dream, journey, labyrinth, maze, poem, poetry, rest, thief, Travel, truth, vault, weary
Such a long way down,
What a far distance across.
So far to have come.
Held onto the same place for centuries.
Then she wandered for a hundred years more.
This journey could not be explained to me.
She searched high and low, ahead and before,
She searched, untethered to a time and space.
Time, a circle; past, present, future, now.
More in the past than elsewhere know her face,
And more faces than memory allows.
After me there will be more, and more blood.
As long as she wanders and doesn’t stay,
There will be no waves of foes like a flood.
To this day, her name, mystery remains.
She’ll no longer humor my inquiries.
Being Immortal Unintentionally.
Posted in Sonnets, story
Tagged blood, century, flood, foes, immortal, journey, mystery, name, poetry, search, she, space, stay, time, wander
Awake this morning,
Awake this night,
Lost in this seemingly endless flight.
And blowing gently, it caresses me, the wind.
Pushing me forward, to her will I bend.
As she carries me past the drifting snow
Past the ever cold, white flow,
Who on my cheek plants a kiss,
Then into my ear the wind whispers this:
“there is no night that does not cease”
And you falling into a sleeping peace,
Will dream of love and longings past,
And forgetting those, then of what lasts.