Darkness descends

Oh return to me my lover moon,

your calm presence hanging above the roof

while I sleep,

you feed me dreams of bliss and passion

where the world exists

where the heart beats calm,

unhindered.

Oh return to me dark eve ,

give me the calm of silence that descends in darkness

the cool yet humid night,

The minions of stars come forth,

connect the dots of pictures

horses and life,

and love.

Oh return to me sweet whispering winds

through naked branches

and All Hallows’ eve approaching,

tick tock time runs closer to the truth,

of a moment wasted once more,

crushing vice of prison bars,

where is my feathered friend

to send me the key,

to release the bars,

to walk out of here free.

 

Thoughts on just another workday and songs that sing to me, same as it ever was…David Byrne dig of awesomeness, surrendering my mood to music, now let’s sing along…..same as it ever was…..she says with the smile.

 

Muse of music and dance

Small bit of moon

suspended in dappled clouds

awaken to the hound

eager growl at what moves in the night.

Arising to the prompt

I am startled into lightness to realize

three nights now

repeat nights awaking with a song in my mind.

not lullaby or classical

but dancing music merrily playing

to the radio of my mind.

I sway in the door frame looking at the moon,

and wonder when next I awake

what will be the selection

to move to.

Does it take a quarter to select

or just a snippet taken from what she said,

the muse of distant lands inspire

through beauty and the dance of time

to the festive notes alive in this mind?

Three nights of melody

drifting through

perhaps inspiring the mood,

yet I don’t recall a funeral march

on workdays none the less,

just bouncy song that by the time

the lock hits the door and I walk away,

silence takes over like the death of a soul,

let me go back to the warmth of blankets

and the dreams of dance and music,

and the smiles of a muse sent

with the sun at dawn.

photo credit:
Dance to the Music of Time
Danse à la musique du Temps
Nicolas Poussin