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Fear Not The Lone One’s Cry

The sun breaking through fallen eaves,
the swaying branch of laughing trees,
the sight of silver-white snow,
a breathy mist, a sorrowful crow.

Tomorrow’s rain that calls new life,
leaves that spiral bringing flight,
the softest hush, the smoothest sigh,
another day to wave goodbye.

And then unto this night begone!
For love is swift and battles strong,
nothing left but freedoms win…
this life is ours to suffer in.

Triumph is sweet as tulips kiss
and lips shall meet as hearts shall risk,
another season sings its song.

The moon is high, the light glows on…

 

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“Hush…” warned the butterfly

“Hush…” warned the butterfly

Long shadows reach across the moon cast night, eerie fingers climbing

eagerly over rock and root with gnarled nails scraping at dampened crevice

and sunken corners, leaving behind a mist of molding questions to hang

within the air. Such a night that no soul in its right mind would wander,

whisper or walk without an army of well fitted men to protect ones back.

Fires crackle, with blue hands nearby, shoulders shivering as bodies huddle

close, eyes black and beady steal glances from side to side, fearful of what

may lie behind them. A thickness of unease is spread like tar, sickly

clinging to the living and those near dead. Its fangs bare down, a serpent

sneaking its way into our beds, eyes betraying its thoughts as it sucks the

warmth from within us. Breath and the beat beat of our chest, pale faces with

lips parted gasp, what was life but joyous… now rain ruined and blood

stained red. Knees pressed into the dirt, cold and hard, prayers turned to the

heavens, hands rose up high, “if there be a god may he find us, may he

save us from this tide.” Tears blink and down from cheek run, falling with

a shattering of sighs amongst the bent and broken. Children cry, but pause, a

moment hung, is that a star hidden within the sky, or a sweet angel? Creature

of the light, her heart so pure, she is singing for us. “Raise the stagnant air

from the earth and send it far from sight, raise the voices of the lovers,

bring out the dolphin hymns, fend off the night!” Like a thunder clap the

silence broken, with a roar of waves upon the sky. Wondrous laughter

carried upward, with wings unfolding, soaring outward far and wide. Into

the rainbow light, along the rosy tide, crystal souls a dancing, white skirts

and gleaming smiles.

With the world now awakened, no sadness here can lie.

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Boondocks… oh mine boondocks…

Give me a place to hang my hat, candle and small desk to write upon…

Give me wine to wet my throat, so dry from this land…

Give me bread and cheese to fill my belly.

Give me peace from the road I walk, the path too long…

Give me a tree to stare at from my windowsill.

Give me a breeze, so sweet, so fresh… until come dawn…

Give me a hand to hold and eyes to loose oneself within.

Give me a place in my heart to rest and a gentleness of mind…

Thus to create…
Thus to find…

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Will-o’-the-wisp

~ Will-o’-the-wisp ~

Where she stood seemed strange, even unnatural, as if the wind blew from directions that never before had passed her by. Yet there she stood all the same, upon a peak surrounded by valleys that tumbled and wove like a loom being strung, complex and fascinating.

The air was rich with flavours that promised new and exciting experiences, could she follow them into this unabridged land, could she dare to go where she had never before been? A question for which only she held the answer… And without stepping forward forever she would stand there, wondering just what lay ahead, risk and all. And so… to stay still seemed just as impossible as moving forward did…

If you ask the sea to stop moving can it? It would go against nature, against the natural laws, so too must we move or forever be trapped within our minds, constantly wondering, what if… The forever, daunting “what if”.

Is it our own mistrust in ourselves that keeps us here? Are we forever following a will-o’-the-wisp, hoping to catch it, to hold it and know for certain that our steps are not faulty? Is it all just an illusion, are we the masters?

Or simply just the slaves…

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Moonie’s Christmas Muse

~ Moonie’s Christmas Muse ~

I’ve heard, and so it is, they say…

There is a land where the cherry blossoms fall beneath a sky shrouded in soft hues of pearl and silver-grey.

Above grounds cloaked in bundles of deep white snow the sun sets an aquamarine and crocuses bloom only when the twilight sparrow tucks his wings to stay.

Frosted petals of pink and rose dapple the air when mother breeze takes her first morning breath, ah the scent of another day.

Below a midnight moon is seen icicles of rainbow braids all crystalline where shadow lovers gently dream and sway.

So soon shall roam the longest night but thereafter will live the forever May whilst in her velvet robe the stars- binding the light with winters blush, will touch their hearts, tip their hats and play.

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Haunting

Twilight and the distant ring of steeple bells.

Tears part as shadows fell.

Whispered words exchanged… Half past twelve.

Flowers cast, haphazardly spun.

A touch of lace caressing a bodice undone.

A glassy lake reflects a mans darkened thought.

Alone in the world, tragedy wrought.

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