Darkness – A Gap In The Clouds

Fragile flight

September 27, 2020

If only the sun
would infuse me
with some of itself
so I could see
the pace of time
the stretch of light
its soul of dark
our fragile flight

Sharp enough to bleed iron

May 21, 2020

is there a difference

I often wonder you know
whether it’s
just my imagination – my fears
or perhaps there is no difference between light
and dark

shadows appear inside my already gloom ridden castle
whether or not my light is on

the difference is paper thin. Sharp

enough to bleed iron

Heed

February 9, 2020

the named storm wakes me
with its whistles and drones

I sit here listening
trying to remember its name

I forget
but did I really take much notice

so of course I haven’t forgotten
if its name passed me by

That crack in the ceiling
that scar in my mind
that sinking
… softness of you

once

it’s futile
there’s nothing to remember
nothing to forget

nothing

but once

Her smile eternity

January 11, 2020

I saw the light
and it was blinding
blinding to my eye
and then again I saw it three
in both which equal six

An image there I could not fathom
hidden in the veins
was it silver
was it dark
or was it Lucifer’s ark

Blind I remained
a few seconds more
till sight came back to me
and there I blinked
into her eyes
her smile eternity

Lucifer his light banished
his form hidden from view
for what can he
with all his beauty
offer mortal soul as me

for I am drowned
in human form
as we are all to be
except by chance
we stumble upon
a smile of eternity.

***

How it is these poems arrive sometimes baffles me. Early this morning while drinking coffee in bed I read Mihai Eminescu’s poem Lucifer and those words sent my mind back to yesterday at the eye infirmary where I had to have my eyes photographed. Fully dilated, those bright lights dug deep into my skull. I saw veins and weird things for a split second or two and thought nothing of it until now except for her smile of course.

Candle evolution

January 4, 2020

I wanted to feel its creation.

It only lasted the short time
until the wax
expired
to reveal the truth of art
for art is born of darkness
in the cold reaches of mystery
where myth blends with reality
and where imagination’s atoms
shiver in perpetual flights of expired
dreams.

I wanted to understand.