Before dawn

In the silence and the darkness in a cold and moonless night,

it's an anguished scream that tears through the soul with all its might,

as the dark fear has a grip on your limbs and on your heart,

takes the breath from hope that's seeking your direction to re-chart.

Feel the anguish, feel the pain, feel the deeds that brought regret,

feel the anger, feel the heartache of the past you can't reset,

and the dark will turn to shadows, turn to dawn if you have time,

walk towards this unseen promise, in the daybreak church bells chime.

picture: http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&section=&q=dawn#/d1onq6o

Windblown...

Ice-cold desolation washes over me as I see the sand, blowing in waves across the cracked, deserted tarmac. And icy fingers tug at my hair, tearing and tangling the once smooth facade, while a bolt of lightning rips through the black storm clouds rushing this way... a world transformed in the blink of an eye, gone are the sunny skies and the impression of summer, removed in an instant by the harsh force that's winter's grip on my heart.

...bitter the taste of wasted years

spent in a state of illusion,

craftily woven with marked intent,

promises windblown and broken.

picture: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/53/111719741_7fd9b161a9.jpg

The Shadows of the Moon

My spirit withdraws

from the earthly realm

of the shadows the moon bequeaths,

and in silver veils

my soul can see

the truth as it hovers beneath

the full moon that rose

this glorious night,

to grant me the knowledge deserved,

lifting the pallor

of trapped blinding lies,

for chained earthbound mortals reserved.

picture credit: http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/p/LRG/33/3370/5FX8F00Z/posters/greenberg-jeff-full-moon-in-the-night-sky.jpg

The gypsy

How I wish I were a gypsy, travelling through this big old land,

without future to direct me, without past to hold my hand,

free to wander dusty sideways, with the wind as my best friend,

sharing fruits in shady orchards, whilst the stranger's ear I lend.

I'd return the gift of nectar, as I see unspoken dreams

dance behind the shaded eyes, a desire that there gleams,

for a freedom never tasted, for a touch before unfelt,

and bewitched he settles back, for the hand this day had dealt.

He now listens to the words, as they flow forth from my lips,

possibilities arise, as he deviates from scripts

written by the hands of others and from blinkered visions old,

meant to tie him to the known, that would keep him in the mould.

Although brief the hours spent, in my time and in my care,

he discovers magic sights in the softness of my stare,

'ere returning to his life, 'ere I further wander through

dusty sideways in this land, for the next dream to renew.

picture credit: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKvyGtmiSgsn6bQ-TSmc__1rdMD0SbUQgzg0nBcKMsvyPOwgBndAzu5hPcd9lCOd2qJoR5y_h16GlasAW-UuybOYiieAZcWSFHZnVBipfW0za7-bODGV6iCVIVRhuChIkBNmmh27pYJg/s400/rxy2mghvgq24xqfbgodqrvnio1_500_large.jpg

The Echo

Catch me in your arms,

I am ready to fall,

to trust in your words,

to heed to your call.

I have reached the end here,

the end of this road,

catch me as I fall,

your voice now, an echo...

picture credit: http://www.photoshopcreative.co.uk/users/451/thm1024/endoftheroad.png

The silence of your being

Soft are the murmurs of the night

drifting from the shadows left by the descending sun,

probing your shell, slowly piercing

through the armor you've adeptly erected through the day.

And resistance crumbles as the stars start to sparkle

in the darkening sky that spreads its blanket over your soul,

and you break down and cry for the lost yesterdays,

for the tomorrows that never may be,

as the harsh truth dawns with the rising moon,

leaving you alone, deserted, in a self-created exile,

in the silence of your being,

in the emptiness of your soul.

picture credit: http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs17/f/2007/133/8/e/Alone_on_a_Valentine__s_Day_by_cashboxx.jpg

It's time to go home...

The road stretches out, endlessly, a golden mile too far,

that the thought of moving forward

is as appealing as yesterday’s feast,

congealed and encrusted in the sink,

the remains now lying rotten at the pit of your stomach

in the breaking dawn.

For your soul is just too scarred

to see the beauty of the mountain range hovering on the horizon,

and the wounds too raw to appreciate

the fresh sea air drifting just past their peak.

And by a force not your own,

you slow down, come to a halt

at the roadside at the edge of tall waving grass.

You open the door,

not bothering to close it behind you,

and start walking into the wilderness.

Slowly, tentatively at first,

then your steps start to quicken.

Faster and faster.

Each stride longer than the last

as you try to outrun

all the thoughts whirling in your head,

to leave behind the memories,

the words that still echo in your ear,

the touch of the hand that's still warm on your back,

and the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks,

as recently as today.

And you come to halt at the furiously flowing river.

You stare at the torrent and the angry rushing water,

and you wonder if you'll take that step,

into the maelstrom of oblivion.

To bring an end to the infinite torture your mind has subjected you to,

induced by the realisation

that that which you’ve lived

was the design of another’s creation,

and you were just along for the ride,

while they operated the controls.

You were but a puppet

at the hands of the master of manipulation and deception,

which you were too naïve,

too gullible,

too trusting

to see.

And the thought of redeeming their soul

and to carry on is just too much to bear,

too much to put behind,

so you take that step into the yielding, ice-cold mud

as the wind tears at your hair

and the skies cry with you

and you wait for the current

to lay claim to your soul,

as you welcome the coming silence.

It’s time to go home…

picture credit: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs39/i/2008/314/1/9/Movements_between_the_silence_by_vampire_zombie.jpg

Shimmering warmth

The room is filled with gently flickering candlelight

while entrancing scents waft through the air,

capturing the melodious voices, sparkling with laughter,

enchanted by the music that's caressing their soul.

And its through this haze of shimmering warmth

that I watch you from a distance,

your movements, your lips,

your eyes that dance,

that stir awake a longing,

borne from the touch of long and hot nights

spent at the mercy of your love,

now teasing the edge of my consciousness,

driving a desire to own your flesh once again.

I watch, mesmerized, as your eyes lift, infinitely slow,

before locking my eyes with an intent

running invisible fingers lazily down my spine,

delivering promises, bent of fulfilling,

the need that's written in my eyes...

picture credit: http://ns1.flash-screen.com/free-wallpaper/uploads/200804/imgs/1207830916_1024x768_lovers-on-the-window.jpg