.

Upon the darkest shore

At the end of the world

Where space and time are curled

And play a yearning score,

Walks a lone silhouette

Looking to the yonder,

Beginning to wonder

If all the rules are set,

During ages long past

When beings of high birth

Would roam upon this earth

And long, dark shadows cast,

Their single thought was truth,

Their single word was law,

But now it all feels raw,

Unfinished and uncouth.

However not all’s lost

There is still a small hope,

A straw at which to grope

Until all paths are crossed…

.

.

At night come the terrors

From this strange, eerie calm,

From the broken mirrors

Dancing into my palm,

I am the conductor

Of this mad orchestra

But too the destructor

Of my only mantra;

Upon the lone high hill

Of silence and soft glow

Follows, patient and slow,

Ready to pounce and kill,

A predator of old

Born from a heart of gold

In an ancient forest,

As god it will not rest

Until all is made right,

Only an offering,

– Forgotten ancient rite –

Can quench its endless thirst,

Unless it cuts my string

With its bloody teeth first…

.

.

Last night I had the strangest dream;

I was drifting along the stream

When suddenly a cry echoed

It was not quiet nor quite loud

Somewhere among the highest cloud

And into morning it swallowed

Everything at frightening pace

Leaving of the world not a trace.

When mist finally lifted

And the moon’s pale light shone again

I was at this moment gifted

With a sight lifting my long bane:

The vastest valley of white snow

Upon which rained a purple glow,

In the middle of this aerie

Danced a lone, beautiful fairy,

 I cannot say why this touched me

So deeply and so profoundly

But upon morning I awoke

With a strange lightness in my heart

And not a single word I spoke

As I basked, pensive, in this art…

.

Substance over form this one. At least I hope.

.

In ages come and lost to life and time alike,

In a time aeons gone between two forevers

Danced a myriad of stars by the sea, on a dike,

They waltzed around in a bright, forgetful fever,

Not a care in the world, not in time nor in space,

They went about slowly, moving at their own pace,

Right then there existed nothing other than them

As they were entranced in this wonderful anthem,

Swift as the wind and as fluid as the river,

Their dreams engraved in stone burning as bright as fire,

Not one was a taker while both were the giver,

The weight of their passion kept them afoot the mire,

For once they were to stop silence would fall anew

And the hearth that brightly lit the path to the shore

With inexhaustible hope and endless sinew

In the deep raven night would burn bright nevermore.

.

Little homage to O 3. Haters gonna hate.

.

The whirlwind is not in the air nor in the tree,

The storm rages inside, none can hear the thunder

Or see the lightning bolts that deafen and blind me,

Or feel the dark coldness that lies deep down under

This raging sea of Rhye; I feel the end is nigh,

My body is drifting, my mind is on a high,

My soul is wandering in wonders of the sky,

There is nothing to try, it is time for goodbye…

So many possibles, new pathways to explore,

A hundred thousand lies and to each a deep lore,

The weather’s achanging: sun, rain, alternating,

Hellow to you dear friends, excuse me for waiting!

.

.

Truth be told, if it must, anything that he does,

Whether smart or stupid justifies easily,

All this running around… It is simply because

He cannot stand to be away, not joyfully,

It is but poor excuse to spend some time with her,

See her smile, hear her laugh, get to know each other.

If you were then to ask him what lies in his heart

His eyes would shine and his mouth, in a smile, would part,

For him then to explain that for a single chance

To spend a day with her, talking, laughing, sharing,

Anything he would give, he would be so daring,

Anything to be close, to admire her dance.

*

Anything to admire her beautiful life-dance.

.

A small alternate ending, because why not?

Sort of a sequel to : Hopeless romantic