The Wolf

A wolf walked past my street

Shimmering moon light its coat

Lost stars beaming from it’s eyes

Its heavy grace weighed me down

I know not for whom it comes

My soul prays for itself then others

The wolf walks down my street

It shimmers moonlight about it

Stars blaze where eyes wish to see

I know whom it seeks out

There is little grace among it

There only seems ghosts of that soul

A wolf was lured to my street

It shimmers within the moonlight

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Turning Wheel

The moment comes back

Did it ever really move on?

Rolling forward cutting a path

Sometimes it leads to yesterday

Feeling of just spinning in place

But intuitively I feel it turning

Carrying me to a distant place

If I had left carrion or two

I could return by my own wish

Instead I return by lack of planning

The wheel turns slow when watching

Which never really moves anywhere

Anticipation

Anticipation gnawls at my soul

Pause between flash and thunder

Hairs jumping at my neck

My eyes widen, breath deepens

I recall everything and nothing

I ride the burning, racing pulse

Thoughts tear at reality’s grasp

One does not control one’s self

When I let go, I feed my needs

Chains of control should stay barren

My thoughts free to roam

Within those deep forests that

We whisper about anticipation

The Mask

My fingers ply at the mask

Janis should be our patron saint

My smile tears at your frown

Warm pleasant thoughts try to thaw

Distant storms stir dreams of hope

Your person moat worn like badge

With no bridge we stay afar

Mysteries of imaginary barriers

Built by ghosts waiting for your bidding

I visits them regularly in your place

But still my fingers ply at the mask

When do I dare remove it?

Tracing the Night

I trace through the night

Stars light my weary path

My hands are my map

As I flee the daylight

I am exactly who I speak not

Embracing the rich darkness

Measuring life by the heartbeat

Craving out peace in others anxiety

Pounding pulse is just a ‘hello’

Smiles are currency for trade

You will never know my way

For neither will I until its past

If I tell you I trace the darkness

It’s seems a silly game

If my stars guide me I must be lost

As sure as the dawn comes

I exist as a specter in your mind

Beneath the stars I trace the night

My Secret

Like a sweat bead

I cling to you

In spirit maybe

My hope is touch

My heart needs secrets

But does yours?

Sparks free from fire

Pulses racing each other

Looks into the soul

Pander of possibilities

I call your unknown name

Whisper waiting for ears

Dance in the darkness

Flex your wings

Won’t you be my secret?

I know my world

I know my world

I keep it in my pocket

Prefect in it’s place

My skies perennial partly sunny

The clouds wispy just right

I don’t do rainy days here

My rock is my world

Tomorrow i’ll paint it again

Advice to My Daughter

Be it ancient or new

Choose your flag well

Unfurrow it upon high

Ride it among the breezes

Believe in every tale it spins

Never waste time on yesterday

The future is your domain

Second thoughts are chains

Doubts clips spread eagle wings

Think of hope, adventure, and dreams

Embraces grow bright futures

As long as breath passes, live

Dance upon clouds in moonlight

Never clock watch for midnight

Fill your tapestries with yourself

EmptyRooms

Dancing through your empty rooms

Latent voices echo the chorus

Good intentions beat me like a drum

A fool for the alluring style you faked

Maybe I wished to fly along you

These rooms were not always empty

Window dressing and dusty couches

Tapestries covering holes in the walls

The desire to full the spaces too great

Still dancing around empty rooms

Desolate

Tonto Basin

Sometimes ashes wish for warmth

Hope lives as the stranger among us

My feet long to stroll that pathway

Desolation is peace and serenity

Hardly compromised, mistaken for believed

Belief is participation award to acceptance

True welcome is leaving the masks behind

Wings are to soar not be clipped by your hands

I live to hear how your world never changes

It was never your world, but we don’t tell you

I’ve tasted the desert of your soul before

The cure for the human condition is nature

The ills are not oxygen to breath, but baggage

Throttling the horizon causes darkness

Sunsets are supposed to celebrate what was

The fire dances to heights and gives warmth

Instinctively it knows no riddles to live

Which is why ashes wish for warmth

Why some see the world as desolate