I feel I must tell you,
That it is because of me, that the Winds
Whisper, carrying our voices
So far from these Secluded Hours
Into the Early Mornings,
When the Night becomes unsure
Of our Reality, and instead spins it simply
Into naught but a Dream.
It is because of us
That these ever flickering Streetlights
Speak in Codes, alerting the Stars
Of Darkness Shrouded Tirads,
And urging Them to peek out upon
Certain Secrets from behind the Mist.
And it is because of you,
That I can no longer see
By the gentle glow of the Moon,
For no longer can I stand
To look the Goddess in the eye,
As she does not approve
Of these Midnight Rides,
But I f...
Oh, Child, tell me,
What wonders is it you see
When you look upon the sky,
For though the Earth is
Jealous of the Stars, surely
There must be more promises
Beyond the naked eye,
Than She is willing to show.
To I, who am tethered to this Earth, Life is so simple, for all I must do is watch over the Children in my arms, and as I do so, I may follow the Naiads downstream, and converse with daydreaming Dryads as I please, without worry as to whether or not these pleasant interactions will hinder me in my care for these Little Ones.
But to You Who Breathes out the Great Expanse, the Knowledge You hold in Yours', and all You must do with it,
is worth so much more, for it is You and You alone, who must selectively share just enough to keep us, while also maintaining this fragile world, and while I may care for but the few of us there are, without You, We would know not enough to continue.
Love, never let me find out
That I'm just another name
In your little Black Book,
Because should I ever
Come to such realizations
I will find the rest of my sisters
And we will reduce you to ashes.
The bush of the Great Book,
Today still burns.
But instead of speaking
In the tongues of the old Gods,
It flickers like the flames of the new
As they revel in the stories of the ages,
Aching simply to write their own.
Sail no patterned sky,
For the best roads of the mind
Are those with no structure,
And the strangest of finds
Can only be seen when the river
Follows no man.
Under the gaze of the old gods lies a civilization,
Buried just beneath the ocean's surface.
It is here that a train will run its course,
Following the currents through time and space,
And it is here that forgotten minds come to wander,
For no rest ever comes for the inexperienced traveler,
But peace will always be, just another stop away.
Oh, Sweet Child, has every Witch way finally taken root in your heart? Has the Darkness come calling, has the Night finally fallen, do you hear the wind knocking, oh, I know, the Spectres have come haunting.
But fear not, My Love, for as the Oracle once foretold, it is the youngest of us all who shall lead the army of Black Cats and Ravens against the Tales of the Arts, for no one knows of Creation, quite as the Child of One.
Come, Light, into the shadows,
For while the Day knows your name
Surely, I do not.
Though they say smoke kills,
I admit, never have I witnessed
You without a smile,
But I also know you'd rather
So recklessly taste death
And embraced it with open arms,
Than run so carefully from it
And watch as everyone else
Your Poetry bounds you
To no real world,
Rather it anchors you
To every possibility,
And the number of doors
Your Prose can unlock is Infinite,
For your Imagination is on par
With that of the Master Key,
And you, my Love, I fear
Are the only one who knows
The Power of Spilled Ink.
So please, I beg of you, lose not
The Tricks of your Trade,
For it is in Times such as these,
When all our Voices have been Stolen
That Talents such as yours,
Are needed the most.
It is only on occasion,
That I have a thought
So fleeting, it's as if
It fell into the wind
And took flight,
Among another flock of birds.
In all my time
Under this Sea of Cerulean,
Never once has it ever occurred to me
That there are parts of the Sky
That might be lonely,
For it is fact, that though the birds
So often pass through,
It is only fleetingly that they do,
And though the humans travel by also,
They only do so in their strange metal machines,
And they do not pay as much mind to the journey
As they do to the destination.
I do believe though, that it would be safe to say
Such creations were made to be this way,
To exist simply for no one's sake but their own.
Still, I do wish I could bring to these Lonesome Clouds
The taste of the sweet earth, and the feel of soft grass,
And oh, how I ...
The view from my window
Is not much to see,
But oh, how the moon
Still calls out to me.
And from beyond this glass pane,
The stars do play
And oh, how I'd love to join them.
The fireworks of color
That bloom in the spring
Remind me so much of you,
For never after, have I met someone
Who could breathe in light
And exhale love as you did.
What a simple sunset
The Morning Star has painted,
Oh, how it bleeds across the sky
The colors of His heart.
But what a pity it is
That the Goddess will never see.
Tell me, My Love,
Would you still make art
If the One could ever pay it mind?
Sunnier flower than you,
For darkness knows not
Never before, have I witnessed such a turn of events,
For as we rowed to shore, I expected to come upon simply a beach,
But when we touched the sky, I was made aware,
This whole time, we'd been floating on a sunset.
Like the dead I sleep
And among the living I walk,
But if the truth were to be told,
I exist simply
Between this world and that,
For never quite satisfied am I
To only dream,
But in a world of rationality
I fear I find few pleasures.
No room to idle,
No space to waste.
Though these corridors be empty,
Still open these gates,
For we have rooms to fill
And walls to paint.
And what better way
Than to let the children create?
Come, Love, with me,
And wander this dark night.
Come, climb the arms
Of dryads rooted so firmly
In the soft earth of the Mother.
Climb until you can feel
The cold expanse of space,
Still upon your skin,
Until the leaves begin to spiral into nothing.
Climb until you can lean from a single sturdy branch,
And catch within your hands
The stars of another life so far from our own.
And hold them close, Love.
Hold them, and feel their warmth,
For of all the Goddess's gifts to you,
These were always her most cherished.
Hand me no rose
Frozen in time,
For once the petals
Begin to drip,
All will soon be lost.
I see no royals
From here I stand,
Quite simply sky.
But between cerulean,
And tints of navy,
I want none else
Than that which you wear.
One day ,
I will no longer
Answer your calls.
I wonder, will you
Ever ask why?
Love, I must admit it has been quite some time
Since I have last picked up a pen.
Between work and friends, and this odd semblance of a life,
I have strayed far from these pages
And found myself lost in a world full of the Mindless.
But I hope, oh Goddess, how I hope
You can forgive my absence and allow me once more
To run my fingers across your leather cover
And leave my mark once more
Upon your heart
Between all dimensions lies a thin veil
Few mortals have ever successfully torn,
For try as they might,
The stitches have simply been sewn too tight.
But when finally it is opened, chaos will ensue,
And upon this happening, may the god Set
And all his counterparts,
Wreak havoc on these worlds
For their peoples' naivete.
Though an open book you may be, still a mystery you are, for though your pages may be easily viewed, the writings within you remain indecipherable, and there's naught but an epiphany, that could ever understand you.
Love, before me do not cower,
For though I am beast,
My heart remains unmarred
And I wish nothing more
Than for you to be the beauty
To hold it within your
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust,
That which is given to us
Surely must be returned,
For these 'gifts' of the gods
Are anything but.
Everything they give
They expect back