Life, Uncategorized

Music Box

Confined by the concentric overtures of her clockwork’s steady beat,
A porcelain figurine waltzes through melancholy strains.
Tempo bound by another’s hand she twirls in sync with discordant melody,
So she borrows your sturdy shoulder and sheds her painted tears while you reach toward nothing more than gilt curiosity.
Beneath the lunar glow distorting thoughts and realities,
Is the playing of fragile lives,
And a duet with one’s self.

Life, nature


On a windy day in paradise
Brilliant, crystalline waves fracture over protective rock walls
Breaking their striated pattern of azure, amethyst, sapphire and turquoise,
Vast, unbroken expanses spanning the edge of the horizon, amazing in their diversity jammed against one another, converging only when the waves meet the earth.

Enthralled, I gaze upon the ocean while the sun warms my back easing all tension from my sinew, smoothing my skin and relaxing my thoughts.
I have found my solace from contrived perfection and acceptable desire.
My paradise on a windy day is unconventional.

Sea spray sweeps across my face cooling the unnatural glow left by the persistent, tropical sun whose golden rays tear through gray storm clouds and push their light to the end of the world igniting the depths of my soul.
I stare out onto a sea of unbroken thought, tumultuous waves unfurling upon the shore, lapping away temporary imprints of missteps and misconceptions, my understanding rising with the tide.

Slight and stubborn, self-assured, I stand steadfast, pressed headlong against the winds.
They whip and scatter my unruly curls with force matched only by my abandon.
Shedding all pretenses, stripped bare and alone,
I taste the dried salt upon my lips offering me deliverance from an artificially perfumed existence, my skin hydrated and smooth in this sticky, sweet air of truth.

I indulge the jeweled waters of my spirit and ease into the clarity of crystal waves then dive lithe and swift challenging their fluidity, alive within their smooth, familiar touch.
As I surface to take a breath my once windswept hair lies smooth and still as the cool, briny air whips my back.

Resolute on sand and silt, I stand, tranquil and contented.
I abandon explorations of the deep and relinquish myself to Mexican sun.
Returning to my vigil, newly awakened, I watch the warm delicate rays reflect my image in the lustrous plains of the glistening sea.


Stepping on the Space Between Dreams

Staring through the frigid winter sky, I contemplate the stars,
Countless dreams tossed wildly through the deep blue velvet heavens, the lens into my soul.

They pulse and breathe these steadfast beacons, reliable sources of direction and truth.

Dizzy and tired, my head swirls with possibility and logic.

The stars reveal the depth of the sky the way sun and clouds cannot.

They’re burning masses traversing consciousness, bridging the realities of night and day.

At once my inner thoughts and feelings lay unprotected, dripping from my natural surroundings.

From a semi conscious dream-state, my minds meet and exchange crucial information.

From consciousness, I long for dreams, trying to make sense of my reality.

The stars form a cryptic map.

Curious and discontented, I consent to follow, all the while unsure where I’m heading.

I find myself stepping on the space between dreams and wonder why this path is so obscure.

Grasping at destiny my fists clench only air, fingernails gouging my palms.

My paths intersect and entwine rendering distinction impossible.

Are the stars really intangible white-hot masses extinguished long ago?

I refuse to accept the death of my guides and instead trust millennia of navigational certainty.

I must, for the persistence of starlit nights is my strength.