What can I say in prayer when she, it seems, is all the aura of the moon?
And burns as if a candle in the darkest room of night
So much I wonder, if before I knew her name, I knew of sight
As if my heart was made of thread, and she was nothing short heaven’s only loom

Upon her brow a crown that not an element in life could truly forge
Nor could a hundred million hands with all the time to spare
Or all the alchemists in all the world to lay the circuits bare
She is a queen within a palace in a land beyond the sea, beyond a gorge

What can I say in poetry for she who has a soul that is a sun
That lights a universe but sees herself as but a spark
When, to my eyes, she is a flare when all the world is cold and dark
And, from her lips, a simple word would see my soul, for her, as won

As if I were a crown, or else a pendant, or a ring for her to wear
Or just a bit of flint to light the candle of her day
Or else a hand upon her shoulder when her fears have gone astray
Or just the words, “I’ll always love you,” whispered in a way that only she can hear



There’s days when I erase the lines
The sloping curves and twisting vines
And daunting words and missing signs
Of “Here, there should be more”

They turn to points of pressing green
The hidden points that, growing, seem
A hidden garden, glowing clean
In clovers leafed in fours

I settle like a dog at rest
Before a hearth of fire blessed
And rest to words of “tried my best”
And let my spirit soar

The time I let, in silence pass
I hold the moment like it’s glass
Embrace it soft, then let it pass
And hope it’s not the last I have in store


The spaces in between the words
Like bated breath that, for you, waits for air
And hovering in halos
In a sea of dandelions
Are the thoughts that, made of you, now heavy bear

The letters like a wreath of stars
That like a starry night, beg us to stare
And glide along the surface
Like a ship upon an ocean
Is a pen that you have anchored and ensnared

The light between our fingertips
Like summer on our skin, without the glare
And flickering like embers
In a field of constellations
Are we dancing, you and I, without a care

The sentences like silver rings
That, offered so, were always yours to wear
And floating like forever
In the lasting recollection
Is the truth within the darkness that we share


I hear the wind, like accolades
And tears from heaven weep in spades
Where diamonds grow
In little rows
In tiny gardens swiftly made

And ushers up and from below
The fragments that we tried to sow
In new designs
That turn to lines
Around the ones we thought would grow

To clip, or keep? To just resign
And let them creep along like vines?
And just agree
To hope we’ll see
They’re what we always had in mind…

I hear the rain and dancing trees
Where roots are locked and limbs are free
Where every glade
Is touched in shade
And gardens made of vines are left to be


Oh, but it is love that holds our hand
When’ere we find ourselves in lands
Of such disconsolation
Standing in a world where we are anchored so with contemplation
Feet of our intentions sinking slow beneath the sand

Oh, but it is those who leave a mark
Upon our ever bleeding hearts
That we, in hopeful ardor
Harken, in our heartened shrines, and swear that with a soul we’d barter
For another moment of their light within our dark

Oh, but these are rainbows in the sky
And though, for them, we truly vie
If ever they were lasting
Would we still be so compelled to chase the self they’re oft contrasting?
Or does a dream, ephemeral, give more a weight to why?

Oh, but it is longing in our souls
For those who seemed to fill the holes
Where we, so damn imperfect
Hold within a growing value that we tell ourselves is worthless
While the fires of our spirit ever flourish from those same uncherished coals

Oh, but that is why they say
That love is blind, but also, love is cold
Yet found to be more valuable than gold


I woke to find the world a better place than how I left it
And though my fingers wished to render
Only this: Return to sender.
Instead I thought for once I should accept it

And so, into a mirror black I checked my own reflection
I saw that doors again we’re locking
But I saw no point in knocking
Or wasting time and breath on lost connections

I drove and seemed to find my disposition growing brighter
And though the world would never know it
For I do not often show it
The shadows borne of yesterday were lighter

And all that I could think was how much more I could be doing
If I could simply see the flowers
Rather than the dreadful hours
And what could end up being my undoing

I rested and I took a drink and then, after a while
And all that I could think to do
Was take a moment, maybe two
And see the reasons that I had to smile


Birds of old omissions fled
Where lands before were dry and dead
And seeds were sown in flowerbeds to bloom

Hands of failed attrition bled
Where words were thought but never said
Til heartstrings, with your hands, could thread the loom

Nights of cold conditions fed
On fevered dreams and tears we shed
But gave to us a sun that led to noon

Wants of old affection tread
Through echoes of the prayers we pled
But lamentations left and bred a boon

Now I see what lies ahead
Behind the tatters and the shreds
Where all I saw was terror, dread, and doom

It led me not to what, but rather whom