Captured by illusion

We move in random theory
standing in the midst of a chaos
of sleepless nights beneath sullen moons
that stare into the abyss of dreams.
I had thought of living and dying,
being in the place of illusion
called upon in the forefront of a hasty life,
rushing through to reach the split
between stages of paths united,
I bristled where I should have found peace
in battering words set apart,
I did not ask for the foretold gift
of carrying the weight she gave
yet called upon the deeper well of light
I rose and moved away untouched.
Who dares to come to the sanctuary unasked,
an ​intruder of the mayhem brought forth,
I slipped into the quiet place
where dreams lay waiting to be found
and touched the clouds in secrecy,
those orange hued beauties rise
as the gentle sun sets down to ripple
the stream of consciousness forgotten.
How is it that we move away
from the comfort of a shallow pool,
dare to dive deep into the darkness
knowing we will surely rise again,
the lingering call of those unseen reach in
and in pulling me forth I wake to find
an escape back into the yesteryear
where the drama cannot find
the path I’ve tread upon,
and the silver light of a dying moon speaks
as I lie awake and wonder
what tomorrow will truly bring.

I know, I know…it’s been awhile, too long really but I have made great strides in utilizing my time in writing a very long story (67,000+ words and counting so far) that I hope to publish in this coming year. If you’re still reading, thank you and will be popping in sporadically as I can until work slows down (Still loving the job and the people it brings into your life) and the story gets finished. Peace and blessings and I’m still breathing, indeed. ❤ K

Edges of existence

In between days
months and years passing
in the blink of an eye
lost in the gazing
of an artists sky.
Hollow pockets keep secrets
move along in the current
as tides take me far and wide
yet something always pulls
the mind adrift in bliss
floating on the edges of existence.
Where do we go
as we gather dreams like wildflowers
plucking the beauty of color
and pressing between pages
the pristine blossom
that is life,
and do we forget then
as it moves from hand to hand
found in another place and time
by a stranger never met
as we look deeply into the eyes,
feeling the grief held
within the deepest pools
do we but connect for just one second,
moments that course through the everyday
and we watch knowing
a kindred soul has swept in
like rippled skies for our eyes to feast
on the gentleness
and we feel the pleasure in the silence
between words not needed
like a lyric penned
and sung in hymn to the universe
that connected us with the gift
of that place
on the edge
of sweetness.

At the edge

Stacks lay in wait
heaping brick-a-brack of yesterdays memories,
sifters will come at night
searching for keepsakes to sell
or prop in empty rooms
with no heed for the meaning
for why it sits waiting for the morning
when what is left behind
will move on rubber down the road
to the empty hole
where excess things that cause pain
will be covered over.
Perhaps in time a tree will grow,
bearing fruit supplied with nutrients
of useless things
and much-loved wood and paper,
glass and things once needed
no longer of use
for she is gone
and the empty rooms bear witness
to the changes taking place
and somewhere there may be a piece left,
something to hold and remember
I can only hope
so as tomorrow comes and the sweet perfume lingers,
the ghost of yesterday will still hang heavy
waiting for the goodbye,
and you will remember once more
the light of a smile that lit the fire
in tender gardens where rosemary grows
and sage blooms light lavender petals
in memory of a light now extinguished
yet is never really gone.
Tomorrow will come
and the empty seat will become nothing,
into the earth once more
and the sun will still shine down
on empty places
where nothing remains
on the edge of the street
where she once lingered.