As reality is set forth in many colors; so is muse cast out in many hues.
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Tell me not the tale of woe--
But weave a verse in timeless poem.
Of journeys long and fortunes gleaned--
Perhaps, this trek was foreseen.
Now, travel distant from the stars of home--
Intrepid voyagers, lost and alone.
To keep the faith and not despair--
Listen to her song and only there,
Cast far from native lands, together they will stand.
To face their plight as hearts take flight, and they boldly go . . .
And so, I have searched for you--
In places you cannot fathom.
In realms not of this world.
My love is an endless sea--
Where time means everything . . . and nothing.
My life is given as yours is to me--
Yet, this is not enough to bind myself to thee.
We must be strong and cast away fear--
The cause of Love is just and clear.
You have only to touch my soul--
Pledging your faith in us, to make me whole.
The Mating of the Soul
There are times, when I gaze at you;
and see myself.
You, who are the mirror image of my heart.
Are we linked by a means we could not foresee?
Funny-- It's pleasing, when you think like me.
But have we been as one before?
Have we stood together on some ancient shore?
Have we shared love and hate?
Have we always been united by Destiny and Fate?
Though the questions are asked, there is no need.
You and I are forever indeed--Soulmates
Look upon the ocean . . . and know all it knows.
As endless as time in it's relentless, tidal ebb and flow.
We, like the sea, need the tempest to change and grow.
Stir up the calm waters and cast yourself in--
Heedless of the result until the very end.
For now, we have braved the maelstrom of heart and soul--
And in our love have remained true and whole.
So, come hence and see--
What those who are faithful, can only be.
Timeless--as the sea . . .
'One Last Look'
His eyes are the darest of ocean blue--
Abyssal and opaque . . . tempestuous and mystical.
A gaze, holding all the elements of the sea intertwinned.
Yet, in those indigo pools, I also see the beautiful spirit of a man--
Who does not trust either of us enough.
Who is still holding the hopes and fears of a boy.
Who has locked himself away in a sheltering coccoon.
Lost in a dark, tranquil land--
Where no one can hurt him,
Where no one can reach him.
So, it seems I have but one gift to give. The gift of Good-bye.
By sheer determination, I rise from his side--
And find my way to his door.
Only to pause for one last glimpse in longing--
Then I shut it gently.
From beneath the waves . . . a sound rises.
Intangible . . . yet, it is there.
The sea's cadence . . . calling to the faithful--
Giving peace to the tired and the burdened.
Known by many names . . . it echoes ages past.
For it has seen much through the eons of time.
And for those who are part of it's promise--
It gives solace . . . hope . . . and a sense of belonging.
Primeval . . . incarnate--
It is the ocean . . . the womb of life . . .
'Of Silk and Steel'
In a heated clash, they forged a bond--
That seemed to come from far and beyond.
They in their begrudging respect . . . that none could insurrect.
Here, there is melded trust . . . most would cast away like dust.
Joined on one fateful night . . . leading to profound insight.
As one is called to duty . . . the other never falls behind.
Thus begins the cherished repose--
Of a friendship . . . few could suppose.
There is an impression of muse cast in grace--
Careless images fill in the space.
Speaking in wordless rhyme--
Oh, ceaseless spectres lost in time . . .
Then, thoughts chanting in a rhythm of true fate's design.
Count me once . . . twice . . . thrice, with each clattering chime.
There is a presense in knowledge, something from which we cannot hide.
And though I cannot see, what morrow will bring--
Here perchance, I may have cause-- this thing.
Strike me not down . . . O'faceless fear--
For perhaps, I have much to say here.
Now, when the sleeper awakens, you may catch but a glimpse--
Hence, what you see here since--
A junction in life . . . where choices reign
Turn this way . . . turn that way,
The question still remains
What do we do?
Which way should we go?
Past . . . Present . . . Future
Each has it's own thrall
By land . . . or by sea . . . or by air,
Faith and trust can climb any wall.
For a path taken together,
Has only love as it's burden.
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You are the soul to seek the Muse since January 11, 1997
This page last updated--
September 20, 1999