Streams of Time

Though this is not my usual poetry I stand before a dilemma. There are dreams that continue to haunt my nights and yet these dreams leave me no peace yet they bring me peace as well. They cause me to wonder, to ponder to imagine and retreat to a place beyond or even within the stream of Time. I close my eyes and see a world that was once our own and yet it is no longer and still it is. This makes no common sense until I understand that my sense of perception is enslaved by a culture that requires me to mistrust my dreams.

I see a world that is our world without the confines of language, where the mysterious is still mysterious and not caged within the parameters of nomenclature and definition. I see a world whose progress was not halted by the expression of ideologies of controlling scientific and even theological thought but expanded and progressed through the vast expansiveness of imagination and philosophy and creativity. Yet I am born on the wrong side of the mirror and still I exist on the other in some sense that I can not capsulate in words.

I feel the stream of Time quickening and see the current in my dreams. I am here. I am elsewhere and the insanity of the reality and tangibility of both dreams drives my thoughts deeper and deeper into the past and the future and the present and they are everywhere and I see the colors merge and develop. An understanding emerges within me and I see my other part as he watches with great interest and softly calls to me from beyond the veil, from the another stream of Time which flows parallel to mine and we meet in a dream and we laugh and he explains the things I have always known were real and I understand the evolution we missed and he and our brothers and sisters enjoyed and know that they wait for us at that point where the two streams will meet and merge.

I look to the stars and I feel his thought, I understand his non-verbal language and I understand. I understand. I see it I understand and without words I take to the stars and the night and my mind feels the freedom of magical thought and I sail beyond here and now.

Maria Palatin'

Heaven's messenger...

Whilst sitting in the morning sun

Lamenting as I do the night

A breeze across my neck did float

And cause my skin to quiver

Tiny chill bumps on my arm

Despite the tropic weather here

And from within a stirring deep

Then followed by a fragrance

I looked about full of surprise

Expecting full to find you there

Yet nothing but a mockingbird

Was stirring in the day light

I looked upon his thin grey face

Our eyes met in the space between

He whispered in a solemn tone

In poet’s voice recited he

Each stanza, verse and syllable

With love they all were overfilled

Sweet gentle words without a form

Came floating from the distance

As he finished his love song I

Fed him and bade him farewell

He spread his wings and off he flew

Toward East into the sunrise

When he does land upon your sill

And looks into your eyes my love

Listen dear a moment still

To my song sent by messenger

Longing...

The black swan swims alone on the lake. His proud plumage just as silky as those of the white swans who rule the daylight, his head held high a king without a crown. With his grace he slices the surface of the glassy pond like a diamond yet leaving no wounds behind him. He glides across the night with only the moon for company until the dew returns and trickles down his back; then he can feel her touch and his heart stops, his world pauses, his life ends and he is in that moment alone with her.

A distant violin cries. The night is haunted by the sounds and yet he swims along and alone. The black swan does not sing nor does he call out in the darkness. His mind is filled with lofty things and no words to contain them. His silence is his pen. His silence is his curse.

As the morning sun returns and her scent is carried away in the morning breeze he spreads his ebony wings and sails aloft into the morning chasing the moon across the void to another place, in another time to be with her.

Looking glass...

Looking glass of Time

Shimmering images I thought I knew

Now vanish from my sight

Mirror of dreams

Looking once only tells half the tale

The depth is seen in pieces

Illusion of infinity

We grasp only but a tiny portion

And think we’ve seen ourselves

Return to the mountains...

I can stand high upon the mountain

I can see across the vastness of Time

The valleys filled with clouds lay waste

To my every thought and desire save one

I can drink the rivers and bathe in seas

I can nest upon the crowns of forests

And chase the sun from the sky above

Yet one thing eludes me in this place

I have fathered nations erased others

Ruled over kingdoms far and wide

Blanketed myself in vanities and whores

Yet in the stillness lurks my poverty

For my heart is filled with her scent

Yet my arms are empty and cold at night

Far across the divide of Space she sits

And holds my soul within her hands

Why me...

This time I closed my eyes. Not to sleep but to be with you.

I stand here; cradled in my hands your face. Your deep and loving eyes look straight through mine. I brush that one lock of hair back behind your ear with a thumb and wonder why me?

A slow and tender kiss that last forever and ends too soon and I forget to breathe. I wonder still why me?

A purple sun, an emerald field, the dogwoods are losing their flowers and it rains white petals upon our moment. I want to take you in my arms and as I do the world begins ever so slowly to turn.

You whisper, “Are you are dream?”

I whisper in reply, “Why me?”

“Simply you” you said to me and counted the things I am to you without a word.

I always gave and never took and you took that cross from me.

Zophiel's curse...

The dark blue of the fallen night holds me fast within its grip.

I move through the soup of twilight toward a high tower in the distance.

I’ve seen this tower before, many times in fact.

I know what awaits me there high above this place.

Into that recess so sacred I can but enter as a thief in the night.

I’ve come here an unworthy angel fallen from grace.

Here I do not belong yet there, within the spire overlooking the wastelands of my mind, There is my desire.

The soup of twilight envelopes me.

Between madness and this place are no borders.

I look again at the distant edifice.

It catches the only light left in the void and faintly calls me home.

A single window in the night sky and I am without a rope or ladder but swift of wing.

Linger...

Ancient halls filled with song

The scent of lilac everywhere

Reflections of the morning sun

Bounce among the pillars

Children play and ancients pray

The young strum harps and zither

A butterfly wanders mazes made

By columns built around us

I watch the sun play shadow games

The wind toys with the roses

The morning mist has cooled the day

Before the heat arises

Another day to stay or go

The choice is mine for making

To Eden fair to walk and dream

Or in Mu shall I linger

Hidden love..

Her scent on a breeze

Her form against the night

My heart races

She can not see me

I see only her silhouette

My heart races

Still I feel her and

She feels that I am here

My heart races

Hidden love

Don't look back...

It’s such a little thing

To give a moment away

A crumb of Time which

Isn’t even mine to give

Yet here they are dear

Tiny morsels made for you

To savor and enjoy with

Hungry eyes wide open

It’s such an easy thing

To share you with this place

Knowing all the while

Your soul is mine alone

So go ahead love

Dream with open heart

Fly out that window

But please don’t look back

Run along...

Run along dreamer

Into your precious night

With locks of hair flying

In the crisp cool evening breeze

Feel free to feel free

As you give life to visions

And subtle things that only

Your desires have clearly seen

Give wings to things

You need to feel but know

When your butterflies return

I’ll still be right here waiting

Run quickly now

Away from here my love

Else I would try to hold you

And keep you in this meadow

Calling whispers...

How difficult can it be to phrase in words these things

To capture with structured phrases a feeling without form

So I sit in the moonlight, glass of wine in hand and think

The images parade by me in an endless dreamy loop

I try to count your smiles and miss the ones hidden by

My tear moistened eyes, the windows to a lover’s soul

I try to quantify the songs I heard you softly singing

When you thought I was too busy to notice you at all

Like an unfinished symphony these moments linger on

I wondered how many times I had kissed you dear

Sneaking open an eye to see you lost in love with me

As we pressed our lips and hearts silently escaping Time

I caught your fragrance in the air and held my breath

Hoping so to prevent its escape into the yonder ethers

And yet I knew I must keep breathing just to dream you

I watch the fading pictures and let them go one by precious one

A wish escapes my lips and I call out your name in whispers

In the dark I close my eyes to all around and see you standing there

Eva Cassidy-Songbird

Angel of the night...

Many a poet doth praise the rising sun

Yet I understand the comfort of the night

Tis in these shadows that I am home

Holding you in my arms

Many a saint it was who proclaimed

That in the night does wander evil

Yet it is the noon that brings me pain

And in darkness I have you

Many a sun has risen to the sounds

Of my weeping and wailing heart dear

As I say goodbye for now my love

And await the dying day

I can't breathe...

The answer to the question on my lips

I do indeed watch you dream and

I can’t breathe

A simple line and my lungs won’t move

I’m old but feel like a boy with you

I can’t sleep

That troubles me somewhat my love

As within the dream I try to hide but now

I only dream of you

Fallen leaves...

Whistling winds through trees in autumn

Children jump through crackling leaves

Orange hues and a chill

Mean summer’s gone away

Longer nights and shorter days

I hardly see the difference

Time stands still in the morning

It’s the space between us two