Sleepless Storm
There’s a rumble I hear,
is it my imagination,
is my mind
lost in a sea of confusion,
while sleepless
the night sky lights up,
to offer a beacon of survival,
a moment to reflect,
a sound wave of natural existence
far outweighs
the surreal state I seem to want.
Yet I do listen to the rain,
hitting my picture window,
dancing to a rhythm I can only
imagine
does the same in her quiet
refuge,
together alone,
we stand inside the storm,
we wonder about each other
wander towards the moment,
the fantasy,
the imagined harmony we once
understood to be whole,
a holistic sort of reckoning,
together we planned our sojourn,
and we would wake with one another,
eyes in a fashion
of love.
Listen to the wind,
calls our name,
in a sweet silence,
while the wet rains sing.
Standing in Twilight
I stood outside last night,
waiting for a show,
though, as I stepped through a summer,
screen door,
I couldn’t help but notice,
the brilliant amber on a night sky,
the leaves and forest and wonder about me,
all glistened in the moon’s mystique.
I knew the show would be out of my hands,
or perhaps the script rewritten,
for now, I imagined the sheer beauty of nightfall,
offered under a natural streaming light,
one that brought me to a different place,
like any such dabbling in nature light,
is meant to do.
I thought of her in this surreal setting,
and I wondered,
I wished, I hoped, I prayed,
the energy I felt might be compelled,
by the sweet nature of her.
In Wanders of Love
I think I discovered something today,
or perhaps it was meant to arrive this way,
I always do wonder,
I wander through my day, in a curious state,
always asking myself,
what is it I really believe is love …
Yes, it is there I stumble,
trying to find a reason, an explanation,
it is then my intellect does begin,
to kick in, sometimes wanting to kick my teeth in,
I am in a constant state of explanation,
finding comfort in my own
awkward destination.
Perhaps it is there I must begin again,
to reason is not to win,
to accept is seemingly a sufficient path,
a road to travel,
a lesser evil to our constant desire,
to rearrange the coarse gravel is our lives.
Much like while in the forest green,
does my mind reflect upon my love for her,
in the peaceful setting,
of this wild wood beyond my own easy grasp,
a place of certain fear and terror,
if lost inside the mechanic of the human mind.
Appears before me then a glen,
a rushing water does certain reach its end,
to flow inside surreal landscape, offers a peace to my eye,
I would sit here to rest my mind,
to imagine the beauty surround,
a bird with winged departure,
leaves me with song,
immediately then it is her beauty is in my eye.
So, I do wander, while the visual wonder of the sky,
does in my mind ask me always,
what is the question why,
and who is the reason I would choose to cry,
to laugh, to design, to give urgency, to know it is joy,
that could cause my need to cry.
Perhaps it might be only that simple,
as does the scholar suggest there is no reason why,
only then do we begin,
to know, to see, to inevitably feel,
the euphoria of wanting to sigh,
in the eye of love,
is to know we might find a departur from
ourselves,
whereby we can then land our soul,
nearby, our psyche,
for the taking …
For it is not our own device to master,
only the wonder of her,
it is such the honey of her lips,
the sensation in arousal of her skin,
harmony in caress, the loss of control
begins to take over the essence of whole …
And when it is we let it begin,
this is love.
When Summer Remains
It is that feeling of never wanting to let go,
the clean, crisp, cacophony of morning song,
they’re in their shelters, the wood in throng,
we all witness the beauty that time forego.
Feel the gentle heat of a sunlight mastery
Quiet we do recognize our vulnerable
task to Nature’s plan, we then are able
To know this simple summertime legacy.
A passing season, a time when life alive
teaches our body to respect an energy
takes our lives beyond simple normalcy,
a vision, fantasy, an opportunity to thrive.
In her arms that one cool summer day,
was my heart in hers to forever stay.
Gentle Breeze Will Stay
When first I sat down in my morning wonder,
I think about place, and reason why,
glance to a man-made water flow in blue sky,
a forest green fills the world far beyond eye.
It is immediate always she can become my
central focus on a beautiful morning in July.
I can easily recall a time I might cry,
yet for now, sweet muse, does mind wander.
I took a picture as a way to describe this
silent peace, music sheltering the natural wave
of city traffic blends a natural green vision,
of Nature’s wonder in yet man-made design.
His search a quiet state of mind, savor the breeze
For in glance I realize why in sky I cry with ease.
The Serenity of a Breeze
Is a calm, when sweep naked skin,
A summer day, oh, a lovely breeze,
When she strolls slow naked skin.
The leaves have a gentle sort of tease,
When whispers suggest we are alone.
I can breathe again, in knowing her
Dreams caress such intrigue is shown.
In looking in eyes express together,
A desire only matters if in serenity
We can pass through sunlit fires
In resilient storm echo sanity.
To know the beauty Nature aspires.
Something lovely in a gale of summer,
Leaves exist cause any I to wonder.
Tears We All Know
I stepped outside today,
the world opening before my eyes,
a light rain,
a soft, quiet, lovely reminder
that allows me to return to a place I cherish
when in the silence of an afternoon gray,
she would …
I could …
and together the rains would walk our lives
through a maze of delicious passion and delight,
the sort of real,
that moves beyond this simple analogous notion.
It is the rain,
the tears of our natural cause,
the places we do travel together,
all alone and en masse engaged in
an elegant cleansing,
it is that time,
stand in surreal sensuality,
feel the tease of a reaching climax,
the heat of our own passions
making allowance for this sweet response
the crying.
