Distance made

At long last from what loneliness made of me,
Grafted myself one person anew with utter face,
Treating my ways and as the sounded lay did free;
For the prince that turns his ways and gestures day,
Commands it so that none the wiser her words unspoken,
That for no sight upon mine but never for then deceive;
As great a spire whence lay that warmly brushes then against,
Gone and called hence respire no effort made for tender sound,
Slowly blossoms in all her wonder for smaller grown.

Faceless

Under the brow that speaks his name there amidst;
Soundedly spoke and found only his voice a vapour proud,
That his eyes dance to the rhythm of rain and thunder,
Attempts at their origin upwards stare through the night,
Upon the darkness lift and towards the moon doth obey,

Upon my travel

This is while I am in haste towards a better life,
Leaves behind my wit and humour in that cosy bag,
Which after a while on that train can never gain thought;
So far I travel and into a whole new world amazed,
Clearly his blood did boil yet never thought he was there,
And so dead as he in his own circle that never travel,

The wind

The wind in between me and life grew stronger,
As I made myself a way of words that stirs, inwardly;
Suddenly within a mist my numbness succumbs here,
For I can share no smile nor laughter with none but void,
How daring my eyes twitch at the sight of light forgone,
In my heart that fares greatly towards the faintest smile,
And gives unto me life another where I walk through the mist;

But while

Since my last breath I have driven myself an ocean round,
In the life that I last myself that I shall drown myself,
Towards the crust of my burn’ed ashes I recompense thence,
As wounded my heart grieves the passing of my greatest,
As shunned my skin how cold it wilters as I pass further,
And frail as my once tender heart weakens from great a cruelty,
Alas, brings me forth a stunned skin that soaked in tears alay,
In the yolk of my passing I shall pass through thee and seek,

For light as we

I looked over my shoulder and found nothing,
But when I began myself forward the light faded,
And so when I lit my only candle with that last match:
By then I had become one with the Sun and all its glory,
Once more I look over my shoulder and find something;
If it were something then I am the source of that light,
But if it were thine, truly then are you my only source.

Onward lay

Onward lay the sun that sets,
That moon which rises forth,
It creases the clouds and shuns the night,
As bigger my heart folds, and day sing,
For now it laments, and sleeps away,
In the next morning however, shall be greeted,
Then, at that point, I am again once more whole.

In memory of loss

While the shackled foes twice embarked delay,
Whose respite ere danger stir for twice done,
At the gaze of Hers in Paris thus made,
That for cradle in Life for thee I give,
Gestures towards the envy thus stood hence,
For the glass of wine drunk and in blood stained
Shook Me my blessing made never besought,