At the end, all is bound, In golden light For to love death; Is to admire life, As both are the same Which through perfection, Must be, United.
The rain returns, To serenade me, As I sit amidst a drought, Of life, Whose roots dig desperately, To the past, Wherein the scent of perfect days Is returned from desiccation, By simple droplets, Each a looking glass, Into avenues I long to walk again.
I sit in silence Or thunder and rain, Pulled there by a desire, Which seeks to manifest, Along paths that few invest. With incense and flame Or daylight and breeze, The power never wains, For as with eternities long gone, We are still with Magick at one With each breath I then pull… Continue reading Magick of Eternity
Whispered through the leaves, Is a song, Caught only by memories, That lean into notes, Of times that were, Wanton for more, So that the song will continue, Longer, Until days are no more.
There are moments in time When the sun pauses, to bid farewell, On perfect midsummer nights, As cool hawthorn begs me to stay, For just a while longer, and you. Months and years will pass, And all shall return to me; Memories - pollen scented, Of a time when the stars were clear, But… Continue reading The Dream That Almost Was