Ellenodale

I write because I wish I could sing,
because I wish I could explain clearly how I feel
but so often fall short,
and because I long for the dream's realization.

We Have Always Sung

The bells of ancient temples sound
In my wide eyed dreaming
Runes
Chants
Rhythm
Bones struck
Keeping time through the ages
Twisting the words into patterns
That have existed
Before the first wailing man-child
E're drew breath
The eternal stars
Notes on black velvet sheets
I draw the sound of light
With each sleeping breath
And expell it
In measured stanzas
Of dreams
Of chords
And rhythms
Of burning
Hopeful
Life

A Little Night Music

Thudding metronome, my heart,
Verses now, my lies
Steal upon me in my sleep,
Minor notes, my sighs,
Should have beens, and wish I coulds,
Plucking strings of steel,
Sluggish chords of long lost will,
Tentative, surreal,
Nightmare music fills my soul,
Conscience writes the score,
End this song, that I may wake
And start anew once more.

Self Exposure

Light of the spirit
Transitions through time
I am held captive
By word and by rhyme
Stumbling past phrases
Their meaning unclear
Loathe to decipher
Unconcious, my seer
Helpless, I scribble
Things I would hide
Scorched self delusions
My conscience, my guide
Who will deliver
Myself from my sin?
Caught in the strands
Of the darkness within.

Erosion

As lichen crumbles stone,
Eons pass between
The words we never dare
To shape
And the dreams we never dare
To share.
We watch,
Helplessly,
A ballet too slow
to comprehend,
forced apart,
made dust,
By silence.