Memories

Rain came and left some puddles
here, there, and everywhere
like a catchment area
for light to dance upon.

The wind rose up to make it be
alive and energized
and I watched it move like I would
in the arms of my adored.

I knew soon it would be gone
but there’s beauty in a memory
if filed within a safe place
protected from abuse.

But I can and know I do
abuse my memories
with the  tears of one dismayed
that all things fade away.

And then there comes a time
when I love my memories
and I rock them like a baby
held in a mother’s arms.

Rock/goodbye, rock/goodbye.
how strange to be loved/abused,
and yet it happens, yes, it does.
until … puddles stay forever!

From out the dust

The sun sets gently so
o’er a land that from the dust
rose up and took control
of mankind’s innate traits.

It turned them this way, that,
and moulded them according to
some strange and indeed foreign
shape and manner, form.

Today they fit quite snug and warm
and I can’t say what was before
and yet, and yet, sometimes I think
I can’t contain what now just is.

I do, of course, like you and you
but how the sense of what was once
stirs within a deep heartache
that ne’er will dissipate.

So in this land from out the dust
I try but cannot disengage
until, until, love comes again
as it knows to surely do.

But right is not this way of life
and heartache doesn’t dissipate!

Clouds

From the vantage point of sky
clouds silently glide by
forming as they go
impressions of the ground.

And from a distance they can see
the seemingly haphazard
connecting lines and circles
that join, break, join again.

But clouds are not perturbed;
they know of man’s ignorance
and how the haze of cause/effect
hangs o’er all living things.

So if on ground the cause unknown
why suffers so the one I know
the effect of what glides quietly by
like clouds in our blue sky?

Ignorant, I’m ignorant, but who can teach
what they don’t know
except, except, of course, the one
I never ere can know!

Eternal heart

The sky of forever sits starkly blue
above the head of my common life
and I searched, you know, like I’m prone to do
for your eternal heart.

Not there, not there - it sunk to earth
there to be buried in human norms
and be as most other hearts
completely and utterly dead

I thought I’d cry but I turned away
with a shrug that pierced like a knife
through the aura of my love for you
designed to be impenetrable.

Not that it matters, you know, you know,
for hearts that are dead can’t feel anything
but in the corners of who I really am
there are tears with nowhere to go.

And so of those tears with nowhere to go
they’re absorbed by that sky of forever
and there they sit ready to drown
the remains of my memory.

Happy days, happy days! There’ll be happy days
when hearts have forgotten they once were dead
and auras completely intact
protect and safeguard for ever and ever
the eternal heart!

I wonder

‘tis just the hopes of long ago
that lie like sand beneath my feet
and I wonder why it takes so long
for wind to lift them up
and fling them out and round about
like discarded winter leaves.

It’s like they’re glued in place
with determined stubbornness
that refuses to release
what’s not meant to be.

And ‘tis a weight that breaks the heart
again, again, again,
and I wonder why it takes so long
for understanding to appear
and remove useless attachments.

It’s like the mind in mourning stills
and loses its ability
to sign up for the programme
that generates new hopes.

And it’s quite alright, you know,
because where on earth’s the dotted line
the bears our willingness
to forego the past and start again.

But there’s a programme, yes, there is
and indeed a dotted line
and all we have to do
is find out where they are!