And we wore white like the angels,

in our minds we remember visions of beauty

images forever embedded on holiday cards

and we closed our eyes at night

saying our simple prayers

for peace and good will

and with the hope come dawn

we too could be as beautiful

and filled with light as they.

Movies inspired through long winding lives,

as fires burned these memories come back to find

the faded smile of dreams of youth,

how we moved to goth and darkness

only to fight our way back out

into wooded hues and colors befitting

a child of nature.

She had the eyes filled with such peace,

and for years I became her,

hair and clothing to try to be in that peace

that emanated from somewhere within,

only to find as the flames died down

that it had always been there

I just couldn’t see

that all I strove for was always a part of me.

In peace I reside,

beside the still waters and evening tide,

when the moon hangs balanced

between sheets of silken white

I hear her small laugh across the universe

reaching my ears

and I am that child once more,

but an angel in waiting

no more.

My friend rekindled my thoughts on my favorite lady of my college years, and with the fires in Tennessee bringing thoughts of the movie Always to my mind, little nudges bring inspiration when least expected. I am blessed. I no longer wear continual white/cream clothing…red wine can sometimes take its toll, and food, and dog prints, etc…..beach driven hues worn now but it’s all good.

Dance of fire

Eyes draw in to the flicker of flame

Dancing lashes light the night

Imagination moves in varying shades

White hot blue into rippling red orange,

I gaze lost in the moment of a fire unleashed

As a song plays in my memory

And a young man singing in lace white finery 

Staring into my eyes

Setting the soul alive.

The time to hesitate is through

Gotta live each moment before it’s gone,

Flickering out like a candle extinguished

Smoke tendrils rise

Then fall into the air seeping slowly away,

And I stand before the inferno

As the cool moon stands watch above me

The sound of silence only broken

By the Mojo in my mind.

Lighting the fire of passion of life

Dancing in the pale moonlight

Turning in to see the sun

Rising to take me higher.

The burning night

Flames lick the edges
curling smoke into the night,
the Jesus papers burn in stone shrouded circles
ashes to ashes.
Night skies clear
as the barren limbs and fingers
reach into the sky to catch
a shooting meteor
streaking through on it’s way
to forever.
Higher the fire dances
frenzied twigs and leaves ignited
remnants of winds
born of icy October,
fueling the spectre of ritualistic moments
coming together on seasoned nights
Indian summer skies call to me,
edging my thoughts to the brink
of jumping into the abyss
as the papers no longer resemble
the lives of men written
scattered floating pieces
raining down.