never cease to dream

I write today in grave anticipation, this world again seems to be on the brink of war, our country is wrought with inhuman leadership, and I fear beauty is dying. Beauty is a perception something beyond ourselves. We mustn’t let this happen, we must look beyond the hate and see life as it truly is, life is beautiful and when you see ugliness then that is not life. In these coming years we must hold true to hope that is a spring of sweet water when all the wells have dried or become tainted. I fear they may be a day with no more poets and philosophers are bridled by the state. Fear not the tyranny of those that wish upon the world their foolish means, never cease to dream.

Advertisements

excerpt from The Dying Peace Lilly

I’ve been working on a book, somewhat of a prose I’m about eleven thousand words in, here is a taste

As the evening twilight is left gleaming in the first starlight, and as it fades does the light so the night soon arrives, to become anew in the dawn’s awakening, save James Taylor for my wake for the light has yet to fade, and the beauty of dusk stays, thus does my soul. As those faint phantom pains become all to real and the good that was fades like ripples in the fountain’s stream and the morning mist fades to be the night, I still stand upon the shore like a grain of sand amongst the many souls who spirits are as well tried, wanting to be apart of the stars they helplessly gaze upon as the night grows cold and the chill of the ocean’s waves beckon them to join its eternal rush.

the light before dawn

your like a well that runs deep within my soul

I creep upon the water hoping to be made whole

the taste upon my lips sour as it resonates

like a blemish on a sunny day

 

shadows of the hills as the sun repose

neglecting time as the spirit grows

the starlight has traveled beyond our eyes

to rest its light upon the naked night

 

you are the hue of lavender in the sunrise

the silent overture of the calm after the restless night

the peace that follows a prayer

the unending light that my spirit like Atlas bares