The two of us
The two of us
Holds fast a leaf,
Surfs the wind.
Apple of my eye,
Fall down for me,
I know gravity,
On cold, windy, stormy nights,
Windows thump, rattle and beat,
The rain so quickly passed,
Like thuds of a human hearts.
A few steps back
Ain’t so big
A soft night where the candle lashes at the ceiling
breaking and making, a hundred veils.
With the quiet flame mirroring every rising step
and every fall, and fleeing razor breeze
a melting darkness and shrinking quiet.
Crimson clouds behind the walls,
Roosting near a crow caws.
Here she weaves her brocade;
The river girl seemed to fade.
Made of gray yarn like the rain
In the lonely room insane.
Like drawn breath and a weight on ones soul
the pause is heavy and cannot be held.
In the silence I wait, carrying the hot coal
till into life’s swell I meld.
Among others on the stroll,
with nomad hearts so easily quelled,
the toll that will soon cajole
and into the great sleepy waters weld.
In trance none will wish or extol;
so pleasant what once dwelled
in the dreams that stole
the pause of a soul held.
In the portrait of a mind unsoiled,
freed from tangible sight
Skyward eyes opened embroiled
in her dream alien from contrite.
Thought I, of the dreamer
lost to her dream of no repent,
of what sight might keep her
in an escape so eager, so spent.
While I spied this flight
the tables and dream I study
Careful not to make dreamer alight,
in her eyes I seek prosody.
The memory of the quiet scene
and a dream the only proof
of all that had been
in those days of monsoon.
Above the filling clusters of people,
fluttered moths and insects of night
in the revealing rays of stadium light,
who care not for the flight of beetles
when echoed growls follow the rite
and crackles of colored light,
while monsoon brought no evils
only drizzle colored grey against night.