A grey sky
A lonely day
A different way to say
Much in the same way
When rain comes and goes
Through the storm it shows
This is the direction to go
A path that winds below.
Paths onward from sun setting
Following another days bloodletting
A tired moon casts her netting
Sleep is a dream I’m getting.
Posted in General
Tagged below, bloodletting, dream, Moon, path, poem, poetry, rain, sleep, storm, sunset
In perfect sight I see what’s come to pass.
You look at what has become of me proud.
If only there was a route through time, fast.
It’s passing waits for no discussion now,
Of its illusory being. Refrains,
From malicious temptation? Indifferent.
We’ll forge on alone beside mans best bane.
Though a companion of ours, unpleasant.
In fear or pride we think it’s forgotten?
Who would remind death of our numbered days?
And at the door of eternity, one,
Perhaps would ask what’s this last toll to pay?
There’s nowhere else to go but through the door.
Here time won’t follow, you’re alone. Go forth.
Posted in Life and death, Sonnets
Tagged bane, companion, death, door, eternity, fear, follow, poem, poetry, pride, sonnet, time, toll
See the mighty wheel
Of chaos turn. I long to
Be one of its spokes.
A gentle falling
Of so much down.
A sleep, a dream, a cloud.
The muffling of sound,
A sleep and a dream of clouds.
But waking is no dream,
This cloud’s not what it seems.
I was asleep in this dream of clouds.
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
Do not look at me through your open window.
Do not gaze upon my flesh.
How many lions, before you, wish to eat me?
Surely do you jest?
Occupy the chair you coward,
Show to me your true face.
But I only need a mirror
A self portrait in its place.
An empty chair,
And on the stairs,
The man who wasn’t there.
You weren’t there again today,
That will change.
Perhaps someday you’ll go away.
Posted in Personal
Tagged chair, empty, eye, eyes, face, jest, lion, man, me, mirror, poem, poetry, window
Such a long way down,
What a far distance across.
So far to have come.