Ransom

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In night this ransomed heart
self held in quiet captivity
past dreams as seasons pass
make way light path’s serenity

In light this ransomed heart
doth bleed
into chalices overflowing
and rains upon the hollow reed
a melody softly blowing

It mourns of rogue and shattered dreams
it sings in brilliant azure hue:
What price doth satisfy
self capture’s ransom due?

Blossoming of a Dream

dreamI heard a whisper in the darkness
from deep within
the blossoming of a dream
and as it bloomed I was falling
falling
into a voracious summer stream.

Fading away from the world
I found myself learning
that bliss
was a desperate yearning
from within a wuthering abyss.

The whisper faded into the night
as a form emerged
from a place within the mist,
and I heard an echo without a sound
as I stood immobile,
transfixed.

 

Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world.
The forms may change, yet the essence remains the same”
~Rumi

flower

 

I Used To Dream In You

used to dream

I used to dream in you,
swim in the sweetness dripping from your lips,
drown in its foaming effervescence.
Your heart was an open ocean in which I could drift,
cradled and fearless.
seeking adventure;
a voyager hungry for new discoveries.
Your open soul was as expansive as universes
holding all the stars and suns and milky ways and moons.. and constellations.

Your words fell as gentle as falling snow
and melted deep into the crevices
and recesses of my mind,
a light that found every corner of darkness
and illuminated it,
stretching it beyond any capacity it had ever known.

used to dreamI used to dream of you
of your giving spirit,
before it became as barren as the desert floor..
offering only mirages..
teasing like merciless vultures
feeding on the carrion of my desperate heart.

You stole my dreams of you,
a highwayman riding his horse of delusion;
wearing the garb of Lancelot
and the image of Dorian Gray.
You rode in from the sunset
haloed by a crimson dust,
bearing your concealed sword..

.. a sword that pierced the dreams of you,
pierced the golden sun to its core;
its light dimming and fading until it was no more.
and the air was filled with a gray, hot wind;
an inferno bearing through,
and carrying the putrid scent of confusion.

I used to dream.

 

 

Waiting For Darkness

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Each night
I lay my head upon this pillow,
I am consumed by thoughts of you;
when you used to lie next to me,
your arm around my waist,
drawing me near..
Our hearts would find their rhythm
and beat as one.

Long moments later,
my eyes finally find their way
to that place of dark slumber;
where there is no pain,
no sorrow,
no missing you.

These days,
that side of the bed
is full of books,
and mementos,
and memories of you.
The chill in the air lingers,
and it takes longer to get warm..

Each night,
I patiently wait for darkness
to envelop me,
to warm me,
to soothe me..
like your arms once did.

I dream
the same dream every night..
I am in the ocean of your eyes,
standing upon its jagged rocks,
fighting the wind;
and I hold up a lantern,
in hopes that it may guide your way..
.. back.

I said to my soul,
be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;

wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing;
there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.”
~ T.S. Eliot

Let’s Keep Dancing

Lovers find secret places
inside this violent world
where they make transactions 
with beauty.”

~ Rumi

waltz2

I had a dream that we were dancing
and because I didn’t know how to dance,
you asked me to stand on your toes..

Hand in hand, feet on feet..
..  you led the way
and we danced the night away..

I asked you if my feet were hurting you..
you gazed at me and smiled–
a sweet, subtle, tender smile.

˜

The next day, I told you of my dream..
you listened,
and you smiled–
a sweet, subtle, tender smile

Lets keep dancing… I like you on my toes
you said.

Solitude

Andre Brito Photography

Within this solitude,
I have grown in ways I never knew possible.
I have delved deeper into the caverns
of each chamber
of this sacred abode
we call the Heart,
and discovered there is no end..
It is a perpetually incessant journey.

I continue to swim,
propelled through this bloodstream, ~ this heart’s dream..
my tears becoming one with the ocean
within the vessel that carries me forth.

Guided by a gentle hand, the inward immersion continues..
It is dark.. warm..
it envelopes me.
I cannot see .. rather I feel,
moving by the sight of faith.

There is safety in this sanctuary,
the guiding hand a cord,
the darkness a soothing, protective womb.

I inhale deeply —
as I hear the voice whisper:
 everything is allegory
      pain is a sculptor (it keeps us upright)
         love is a painter (his brush divinely guided)
            lust is a cello… (but what good is an instrument without a song to sing?)
and I am ecstatically transported to Tagore:
I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument 
while the song I came to sing remains unsung.”

I exhale cathartically —
Releasing..

It seems an eternity between the inhale ~ and the exhale..
a lifetime between each breath.

cello