The flower may fall,

Like coarse sand in an hourglass,

Or the wind may howl,

Like the wail of dying wolves,

But the rainbow shall continue to shine,

Alike a thousand divine orbs,

As beacons of light,

In what was once a forced darkness.

I gaze at an ocean of stars, 

Seeking comfort in the pulpit of a rose petal bed. 

Dreaming; streams of infinite flush like rivulets, 

Casting open my system within. 

My longing for love; chaotic in a calm forest,

Is but filled with trivialities. 

I search for the singularity of all truths in her silence.

To face God I must ascend stars,

Walk Moons,

Swim through Darkness,

And reach Paradise.

But I tire of travel.

I would rather look inwards,

Within my heart,

To find Her soul, 

Merged with mine.

I am with Her as much as She is with me.

After all,

We are but projections of Her,

Her Light, 

Her Beauty, 

Her Infinite Source.

A ghost amidst milk mountains,

Wanders ever lonely,

Across ivory forests,

In a vacuum.

With frosty innocent eyes,

And rosettes like polished paragons,

Her aura is my solace,

As I wander too; like the phantom of dreams,

In a vacuum.

Moonflower

Beyond the seas of time,

Scattered          stars          sit          still.

The lunar lunette a mystic white rock,

Secluded; shining; mellow.

In colourless light,

Heaven’s mist settles,

And Nature’s spirit is again revived.

Fragments

A silent shadow melts with the light, and sails with the wind.

You are conversing with a cloud; a voice; a fragment of thought;

An incomparable nihility.

Lost

On the craters of nothingness,

I courted the ideal of paradise,

But suppressed this desire; for thoughts hindered my serenity.

I looked upon my reflection,

And found a Tigress staring back; her eyes of a strange apocryphal blue.

I floated across like a wreath, and she dispersed like flowers,

Merging with the Sun in full blossom.

Half of what I say,

Like a crescent Moon,

Is wondrous only partially.

The other half of what I say,

Always from the heart,

Tormented only by Love,

Is whole like the Universe. 

That whole of what I speak,

I compare to thee, 

For you are wondrous and inspiring,

Seductive, like a seraphic enchantress,

The imaginary being of dreams.

In solitude I find you always,

And I, astray in silence, find that solitude in Space,

Where Love, everlasting, lives longer than time,

In an immortal realm of bliss.

I steal a dream,

From groves of delirium.

Pilfer a nightmare,

From depths of recollection.

Finding feathers afloat with memory,

And thought’s flower dispersed,

I slip away, gently, to sleep.

I breathe you and feel you,

Steal you and feed you;

To my devouring heart,

That knows no boundary or limitation when consumed by passion.

It burns softly, faint as a glim,

And you ignite its intensity,

Letting it snowball in to mountains,

That hang from cliffs of newfound certainty.

Like a candle in the wind,

I sway with your every word,

And you, like the breeze of Paradise,

Are as delicate as the Oracle’s touch of euphoria.

Perfection is an archaic term,

But you are of gold and amethyst,

And I, like an emerald tablet,

Hold the secrets of chance. 

I drink from the chalice of adoration,

Standing complete at the gates of devotion,

Where you, clad in feathers,

Descend from the pedestal of immortality.

I confess and pour the anguish of my soul,

On to a marble slab of innocence,

Where you create from nothing,

The fruit of Love.

As your scribe,

I write with the tears in my eyes,

The blood in my veins,

And the spirit that is within.

I write with the purity of water,

The sands of antiquity,

Of flowers that flutter by future’s past,

And the nib from the tongue of a dancing nymph.

You are a gift from scrolls of faith,

And I am a servant at those Halls,

Where rests your Truth,

As foretold by a prophecy I heard from ghosts.

I can write till the Moon is a Sun,

Or till the Earth is a star,

For Love is timeless like the clouds,

And as permanent as your smile.

Regard his face,

That countenance and gentle complexion.

Regard the puddle that reflects his eternal,

His now and his forever,

His love for all time, all reality and all dream,

The angel of heaven,

Beauty itself,

The thing that is, like bliss,

For she is his all.

Regard his eyes,

See his truth,

Like a rainbow of spirits,

And you shall find deep inside,

Her; carved on his chest, 

Sculpted in his heart.

The artists of ancients painted these hieroglyphs.

The language of love,

Defined by her and him,

Like infinite melodies,

That roll-off-the-tongue-like divine lyrics.

He speaks to her,

And her to him,

Through the corridors of thought.

He walks each step,

Takes each breath,

And thinks each thought,

Only upon her;

For she is his everything. 

Though they may be separated by seas, 

By continents and creatures,

Skies overcast and blue waters of escape,

He sees her everywhere, in everything,

Hears her soft voice and feels her gentle kiss.

She sees him too,

And they both reflect each other’s sunshine.

Abounding with love,

A radiance greater than any Sun,

With the shimmer of a billion rivers,

Beyond all metaphor and simile and description,

It just is,

And they both know and understand.