As long as the hills stretch, So long shall our reach grow. As smooth as the hills roll, So smooth shall our strides go. As far as the horizon rests, As ceaseless the sun sets, Such distance our dreams met, Persistence, our hearts suggest. As light as the clouds lie, So light shall our souls be. As free as the rain falls, So too, we set control free. For never shall we arrive, And pray never to retire, As the purpose of our lives, Is the motion of desire.
How far you’ve wandered, Tempted as Helen was, Or, stolen away, Yet, returned to us. How fare you glow now, In this simple, summer day, Bled of excess, outstretched; Clothed in skin and sunlight. Stay as long as you like, There is no time here. As sure as rain shall fall, Or rivers flow, Forever stands our home, Enchanted by distance, Forgotten with fondness, Attuned by silent musicians.
It is with breath That we draw inward, And, with relief, Release our hold. Yet, some of us remain, Clutching our chest, And curling comfortably Around our fires. We nestle like infants, As our spirits grow Within our veins And through our minds. A child of wonder, We see all anew. Dazzling lights, Lovely thoughts. Until, at once we see Within, we are trapped Docile and paralyzed, Begging to exhale.
The specter was flattered By all who had gathered. The witnesses staggered! Their hearts were in tatters, They moaned with a clatter, As their lives were shattered. And laughter, The clever crafter, Hung from the rafters, Pale ever-after.
Do you believe, that gods can bleed? Have you seen enough, to conceive of, divine mortality? What would it mean for us? We who must develop love Of vulnerability, Of blood, Of death. All so we may draw our final breath in peace, with our minds, and our dreams, drifting in the cosmic seas of infinite night, and lovely, lonely starlight.
He’s given too much to rumination. A little too quick to trust concentration; however misplaced, dull and graceless, a soul in stasis as he passively paces. Shapeless he coils Into an infinite past. A shame, if this time were to be his last. He may never come back. He may run off the tracks. He just might slip right through the cracks. That quiet one, who never laughs, with eyes like shattered glass.