A Poem: "The Bones of Winter"

It is as if everything dies at once; together in a quiet leave.
The morning after is silent;
All the leaves have fallen- lush branches now skeletal and frail.
The symphony of birds, the whisper of warm winds,
The performance of waltzing trees,
Disappear into a realm of cold forgotten.
A heavy air, a crueler weighty sky
Burdens a now deadened terrain;
A season destroyed to make way for another.
This vale of grief shrouds the earth in sables
Where we will have to wait to be children once again.

A Poem: "Quiet!"

O Sorrow! O Sorrow!
In the night you sigh so deeply,
In solitude you breathe a cold air of sorrow, sorrow.
On the crimson fields, autumn’s undress, you weep; weeping
While no sun shines, shining on your tears tearing-
Tired, cracked cries from a suffering mind.
O who is it that squeals, whose voice forms such wretched wheals?
With sorrow, streaming sorrows, choking themselves with feral cries?
O shameless mass, brooding howler- O preacher of sickening wallows-
Away with you! Desperate despised, demise your sobbing yelps!
O shadow, masked by the loosened night- At dusk your modesty revealed
And no longer may you shout,
Of Sorrow! Sorrow! Sorrow!

The Breath

The breeze comes and reunites us all,
singing alone, giving rise to all of our songs;
The songs being the law of vivid life-
It is our very essence,
an essence which holds our substance,
advancing while detaching in night and day,
in man and beast.

Here is where silence becomes it’s own unwinding-
Transitioning into a wholeness
where words become fruitless,
where our eyes become our words,
where to speak is to die then to not speak; a movement
into a truer human form.

Everything in birth and death-
awareness, oneness, clarity, stillness,
become a blended existence amongst us all
where vibrant beauty is understood,
not through language,
but sensed in a shared breath.

Where the eyes give the lucid quality to glass,
breath in breath,
the essence, in essence itself.