crest of the mountain

Am I not a man consummated in the womb and raised to perish
For I am regaled by the stars, humbled by the sea, and in awe of the moon
For why am I in a continuation of solitude that only seems to accumulate more
Has the wind not have the moors to love does the sky not mate with the sea
I ask the craftsman of them yet does he know not me
For I am bowed by thee and in a kiln for what I feel to be much to long
So I converse to thee: am I the mountain to envy the sea
for I reach for the sky yet she reaches not for me

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for that I write

For what sorrow that sweeps the lonely heart clean sweeps not mine
An elegance of prose if weaves throughout thy soul unto what I know
An ink for thy pen that which I live unto my art unto my being
For what motive do I write such as a verse unto light
For it seems so easily to be the beauty that exists of thee
That which is the sun the moon and all that the dew lays upon.
I am but to scribe the splendor of such a thing
That only one’s heart could ever read that which I speak
for it is not mine that the reader sees it is that which they believe
for such fascinations that I speak are of a universals means
think not that I do not feel for I feel too much to ever be
I understand more then I could ever speak
nevertheless my darling if I ever said such kind words or gazed upon thee
Then you are an ingredient to that which I speak

Petrichor

When the waited rain had fallen down, Thus the sweet smell to the virgin air
Same as the early dew laced rose, It smells as life anew upon the earth
My heart is awakened my soul stirred, alive comes the words to tender to be spoken
upon that day that beauty veils the air, may as though my darling you shall smell
may I be near or far I cannot tell, one day the palate of your senses shall tell
think of me upon the after rain, I my darling shall do the same

poem 291

I feel; I love for I care yet not caress for I am lone upon the universe
For the earth is not where I am or any intellect should ever be
A mirror of something more yet graven by man
I see what could ever be a moment that is all time yet in the same the moment
one swing of the pendulum is of all of them in the same
a brashing notion it shall ever be, yet to me a meditation on the last grains of sand;
like the grain within a tree telling you the age
yet that grain has never changed nor seen until it is in need,
may you see my humanity and not be afraid
that such opulence and splendor of lowliness brought in the tides of wealth that was to be my life.

to whom you may adore

For an eternity it shall be:
before I revoke my love from thee.
For as many leagues there are of the seas:
that is the depths of my adoration to thee.
The solace of night and the summers moon shining bright:
Is the manifestation of my heart and that I feel for thee.
For what is the sight of magnificent splendor worth:
If it does not have the means of such love that I feel for thee.

which came

Upon the final evening my tears resembled the shears within
And all that ever was came to be that was the moment that will always be.
From my heart a knock upon the door, gentle at first then it came a stern rapping
And that was how I knew to answer that which came and will come for all.
As I unlocked the fateful door I saw of him dark in earth tone robes
And tears streamed for my hollowed eyes and sob unto a cry.
I knelled and spoke to that which came take me now if it’s all the same,
Thus the robes declothed unto a satin white sheen.
A maiden now stands as that which came, thus my heart was apt to praise
The tears they subside and upon that hour of epiphany: I was that which came.

for what it’s worth

As though the skin of the soul is striped by layer upon the citrus field
Why must I never feel, the poet never to feel the thinker never to know
Reaching out a cup and asking for more what glory will be nevermore
Why cannot the man who knows only love also know such evil yet it be reposed,
Cannot I see the light with more than dark veil upon the happiest hour,
I beg thee for a life of subdue where I feel greater just for being me
Such a life with a love I recognize as myself a garage and hopes of the tomorrows to come
Yet ye must believe that I am some reached soul, or atoning for some past life fouls
Or just a modern man to be an example for thy peers.
I shall splinter yet not crack; I shall lighten but not fade for thy stain is thy wood
A life in rebuke of the pain that tries to feed guile is a life I shall lead
It is not that which shall touch thy lips or guide me into the weighted deep
It is a life of the fasting of evil and desire of oneself; I shall rebuke and be made whole,
For thy soul is made one upon that day when I shall be called whole and brought home.