Moons would walk through shadowed gaze unheard, It seemed amiss caught fire our leaves bettered grue, With each orbit, in light's shot a sight was all but had, When finally hills are seen; craters spell their name, Hence each speck of flame our energy walking away, Thus came hand-in-hand, the moons in wake, light in awe Spread wings from halo light, of great force walked Moons, These are the happ'nings Lendayem describes and takes: Though it was never futile such gaze unheard be now reborn.
Even whilst the clouds fly their way, Whilst the wind kept brushing past, Nor did the mills cease their work, Nor did the wood dislodge, break; More the finest fibre within, taut; Its breathing and illumined glow, You can feel its light tremble slow, But no more was it cast aside gone, Always lit, but no spark stained light, Better lone, lest light eclipses dark. Then the wind shall blow its fibres loose, Glow in the dark, each drop of rain fall: Colour each fibre and see them wave, Write your name, the wind commands, Beneath the cliff is that name you know, As we descend through the name, Then its core shall be sought then held, That core remaining star glimmers dim, By whose shell and label remains unphased, Not even weather shall dim it further, We shall feed it adventure and enlighten it, Not once faltering on the love we give, Even if not to take, yet still light's given; So once even the Sun can see it, At least each cloud can reflect your rays.
Not a verse, nor a song, A word told an hour long, Leave me be untold cares, Such gales kiss lips so bare, Then part my foot a way, Ere the dawn sweeps my day, There brought is star alone, No sun but swiftly hone, And the steps call us here, I hear echo seize mine ear, Each sound whisper seeping, May noon burn my keeping, And the eve still strikes loud, And the gulls yet free tout, Nor moon pleasure bestow, Till light anew is towed, Anchored here, err mine eyes, Each hour the light's tail dyes, What new spectre followed, Descend upon mine ode, Wipe my tears till morn glow, Banish next my hourly slow.
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.
Whence times gone there shoulders two masks lifted by a single head. I am what ye call the phantom of its shadow, who knew no morals nor delicate treats than that I offer. Mine iron is my word; my fate is your sentence. Here, I recite mine own poem that eloquently written describes my views on the state of me:
Lurks, breathes, tricks beguile!
Lo, keys from lungs spree!
Dare a face, God is not.
Whose mud now? Mould him free,
A mind? Think not for bile
In whose grief is music here,
In whose brief state is apart,
Stupor my shadow lest ye stand,
Breathe such heights as those parting
Only for light give entry near,
As power wrung strings on spool,
Who knew better than face himself?
Then step through, reveal him:
Defect the phantom ye call yourself,
Till all I bid is sold for fool.
I call the ghosts of sunken ship,
My name creased in shame,
From this cup an ally & enemy sip,
His hate of me is fame,
Now accepts that whom he lips!
Oh, silly bile; this defect of mind that I call the shores from yond the meagre hopes that goaded dread in unsung thought till us phantoms brew. We’re neither enemy nor ally, we are who you are. In shade. In dark, we disappear. In light, we appear. That they seek the light is thus to seek us, and we shall arrest them there and by night shall free them there. So passes they unto us a forthold of figures, the dreams and the thoughts they never implement. So pass unto us a single tear that wipe words from ink as to value from meaning. So then, if never of us shall appear, then light shall never appear. If so, my dark intent shall be nullified by such; in whose absence of light there is no ally nor enemy but a single shroud of dark that envelopes all the above till one himself, or herself, shall bring to open.
These are the fainted shadows in text, and we raise a mould up in the sky to imprint these words in the world, and so take them as they will so that no shadow weighs heavier than the light; nor peace is found, till peace is sought. Nor trees are grown till the seed is wrought. Let us be that seed and so produce in time the order of that which stands, whether poison or not in produce is given. Then in jest the light is but joke for fools to acquire; then when it is seen this much we shall see. In void of everything else, it only becomes unseen.
Whilst running from the Sun,
The fields a silhouette cloak,
The trees felled from the step,
Ere the nightingales weep
An eager passing through the fold,
Let the moon collide with the Sun,
Emit every rock and dust sky high,
Scatter all for starladen daylight,
So that as you run towards the shade,
You can look back and observe Her rise
Sans fear of sight of yours be blind.
See the bold Sun handcraft life anew,
For whatever passing this day we mourn
Shall rise forth the Sun the next morn.
Thine awe held above so high,
Could Isis dance without a lie?
Nay, nay She’s in love for true
Dispel this fear once had in lieu,
Nay, the art of beauty is divine,
This art you hold is only thine,
Such rays of sun are for shame,
Who could never replace thy name,
A grand design known only to few,
By one sitting only wine could brew,
In finest notes no glass ne replace
The casket of grapes we displace ere,
The glass poured in honour fair,
Plunge me not to times so dark,
I am but hardened the man as bark,
This dead visage I conjure ways,
That I am but half the man he says,
Alas the night grows warm with mind,
Though I am but yond apart behind.
But light escaping
Nor is she cheating;
Footsteps long before
Ere looked, ere looked for
The shores so distant
Now left are nascent,
Woe more for more allowed,
These waves tremble loud,
Cool thine head so fair,
Hide within thy lair
And never, n’er shine,
Let all dark grow divine.
In spite of this day,
Shall beckon your ray,
Again shall it peer through,
Ere love in dark is through.
City, no distant land, no bitter waste,
Who knew from soil come road and concrete,
The sketch of a flaw ere attempted grace,
The searching souls in grace their flaws,
Who would look right nor left nor away,
To observe all and fluster in loss, loss;
But here we are, in this hour, in this space,
Half his life was complete,
Half his life shall rise again.
Nor did he not sing from whence he were.
Nor did he climb so high to fall so well.
Nor did he walk through hills and cried.
Nor did he sign his heart to greater foe.
Nor did he look towards the Sun in awe.
Nor did he breathe the evening air so smooth.
Nor did he take himself to still and utter light.
Nor did he not pain himself to greater pleasure.
Nor did he write his purpose etched on heart.
Nor did he seal his bonds to the stars at night.
Nor did he say never shall he try again.