Ellen

At a corner of the stars, like tears…
She was awake in distant a place afar,
And all eyes would be gifted a sight,
And all the walls beckoned she should go,
Then she walks, fast and in ecstasy!
All the walls wrote every second alive,
Every floor imprinted her trailing steps,
All the torches would eschew her name
This name only she saw in sweeter flame
Brings to her raindrops on soaked floor,
“I can see!” And laughter beckoned suit,
Trails of breeze blew walled velvet veils,
And she dwelt in the maze for longer still,
And she continued to run and look round,
Round and round still she looked. Beheld
Herself in all the veils held as she ran,
At long last she reached the centre,
At long last the shallow pool rippled in step,
Wrapped in veils she continues to encircle,
In an inertia of great joy she wraps further,
The walls torn away. The floor detached.
The ceiling now a waterfall with streaking veils,
And Ellen still wraps feet, arms and shoulder!
All round, her sight beheld the beauty kept,
So much was this weight of veil inviting,
Descending below the former maze now empty,
Within an abyss lit by an eye yea large and gold,
Only she could breathe the light in darker waters,
Till all she sees becomes light itself.
There she stayed, here she remained,
Only a hundred years since she awoke,
And a thousand for a veil she equipped,
Whilst she had swum in deepest waters below,
The sound of waves never became her
Whilst all streaks of veil from her floated,
It all seemed like magic, and she lived. Yes;
Now in union with herself, she gazed beyond;
I shall create a star. I am now that star.
The Earth I see, that Earth I shall gaze.

So spoke Ellen, in language of light;
Finest star, and all in gold arose,
There you shall find her in blissful night,
Whenever alone, needing light’s repose.

*

Have you forgotten, the whispers of old,
The echoes so smooth that sound silence,
Now cling the shield of light and glow,
In a single flash the feathers leave,
The horses riding through a field decayed,
And no daisy nor lily would grow in ash,
And all the Earth’s trembling in chaos,
So sooth the mirror on a sky you plant,
So inhale the shards to see ourselves,
So exhale a road long you follow,
In all that one you had, from birth;
Need not despair, the road is lined,
Glistening amidst in view so long,
Whether right or left, trees remain,
Standing tall, they invite your pace.
Walk through them, gently. Esteem.
They are calling your walking,
And you’ll find you have walked
Far from beginning; far from end,
Though keeps you is much walking,
So breathe; and linger no more.

Slings, Jokes, others

Prince, sulk beneath a hooded light,
When I say this joke however mean,
I truly do mean in stronger word,
That we’ll in charms have seen,
A misery a soul equipped to laugh,
Yet he would not in sight bestow;
A joke remains so, unseen, unheard;
Like a key, poking that dark hole,
Poking and turning, nudge and feel;
Resistance borne from persistence none,
He’ll let me in and then joke is none,
How sweet is the irony, the cheers!
Unlock when no lock is nigh;
Unlock.
But, no, sanity is my weakest noun,
Indeed, as you have said, I am most sane.
The most angelic and free, a God-enduring,
I forbid all evil mine eyes cross,
I kiss the cross, the Qur’an, the scrolls!
Throw yourself into a sea of words God
Pronounces so vividly for y’endure!
That storm of pages strikes so wound a chasm,
Now is knowing no more, thinking raptured part,
Tis this irony that I speak of,
Tis comedy till no laugh is sought no more,
Though this we call a world, given birth a reason
Makes devoid of laughter at all things wry,
And still the comedic tale remains!
The stage remains open. The curtains fall, yes;
But the act continues. On the streets, at sea. Well?
So-

Unfortunately, he was sectioned soon after.

On Bees

I give leave, if not wishes in green,
Now are they spoilt, the brown flickers,
As bruised a leaf on drugged field enclose,
Now are their stems and petals it woes,
I then ask, why then are bees yea sicker?
Who then, if not my honey, is but sweet,
That golden sap, not from maple procured,
Delights those round the table come is tea,
How then the comb soaks slow till ere fed
Then excites sense till all ignorance led;
This much whilst yond wall and floor laid,
Lies dormant enslaved, a colony, it wept:
Is pollen then just a pollen to accept?
Why, my senses dull; my wings so numb,
Yet continue my work, like reeling pain,
Till one of mine will drop,
Till more are dropped,
Then I too am a drop
On lidless field,
The pollen call.