synthaetic synapse

as you wake this golden morning
and slowly get out of bed
squinting at the light
that streams from your window
and stretch
and yawn
as you breathe in the ocean air
filling yourself
with the wonder
and the glory
and the beauty
of the world
reveling in the simple joy
of being alive
remember this
and hold it to your heart
that you may never forget
because i think of you
and i wonder how you are
and i wish you were with me
so that you could feel
what i feel
and know what i know
so that you
almost awakened
with sunshine filling your eyes
could see what i see
and experience some small portion
of my world

because it’s 30 fecking degrees
where i am
and the damn wind
is blowing so hard
there’s snow stuck to the windows
on all four sides of the house
and you’d seriously be most welcome
to shovel the snow out of our driveway
for the thirtieth time this year

(and since i’m tied here running photoshop batches for another hour or so….)

forgiven

in the palm of my hand
lies the crystal shield
of compassion
it glimmers and glows
with a light of its own
caught recklessly
between the lights
of two worlds
it satiates the primal urge
to run and fly away

what nought but this
that seeks suppression
what further drawn
alleviates the burn

come closer now
and the thought shall linger
chill mansions rose
where no one dwelled
before

~ December 18, 1992

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

recalescence

those days . . . .
vitality and strength
and the will to continue on
how much else then rectifies
the waste of an eternity
so many days now long forgotten
unattended in the graveyards
of my mind
some shadowless subdivision
of the thoughtless reclamation
of the emotion of a starry night
. . . so long now passed
that like eternity reconciles
the pasted glimmer
of a thousand stars
that fade like water pours
from between my fingers

i would live again
if only in this allowance
could the tokens be recalled
i am paled by the significance of others
their flows surround me
their auras imprison me
and without escape
i must sequester myself
behind the walls of solace

silence is a form of compassion
have i lost myself
or is this glowing spark of regeneration
only now coming before my eyes
i would be dead without these things
but alive
sometimes they stifle me

and those days . . . .
once remembered
. . . remind that i have grown
into what i do not know
but in this
i find i flow again
with the will to live

~December 3, 1992