Let the snow roll over in my dreams,
Let the shore be cast away in my sea,
Let the stage take my fall away,
Let the path take me walking along the way.
The last dawn does not wait for the final dusk,
The last walk for the unknown stride,
The least is the unknown slavery,
The feast is for this tidy courage.
Where I step, I step twice,
Once for myself and another for the Silence.
I worship my Silence along the sidewalk,
I never truly believe in the communion.
Let me clear my voice,
Sleeping is the unseen lavishness,
Running towards the maze is my labyrinth,
Going to be heard in silence and not to be unseen.
Ignore the path that is not yours,
Align with the thought that causes you to walk alone,
Aloneness is the road that diverged in the wood,
The two-forked road that mends my decisions.
Above, scarlet red steaks
a pure white sky,
its innocence taken
below, cracks that pit the path change
housed in its secret chambers
he dwells at the labyrinth’s center,
a monster Minotaur with dangerous desires
she drifts thus far
atop the stacks of stasis
without falling into depts
of the indecorous act
her guard guides her away
with gentle hands,
he trembles with anticipation
as she reaches the precipice
afraid of losing her as she
cannot perceive what’s ahead
cannot see what to expect
their anxiety trickles down,
of wants and needs
not fleeing from nor running to
though escaping,
to a rebirth forward
Softly, starlight slippers through silver leaves,
salving slender branches where willows keep their weeping vigil.
A sighing wind weaves grief’s misty purple veils,
hesitantly floating before sweeping down;
valley tears, fern quivering, blend with those heavy clouds weep.
Moss in variegated green feathers, paves paths primitive,
moonlight lends gray gloved hand to guide faltering feet,
trembling on cliff-sharp edge of blackest night,
stumbling forward, tracking an unmapped grief labyrinth.
Heart of mine, spent by the merciless beat,
lean hard upon hoarded memories, bittersweet.
Life, after such sharp parting, shields her flame,
tended as a mother tends her sleeping dear,
softly repeating through the night one poignant name
that only she who bore the pain can hear
in accents of the heart so sweetly clear,
echoing faint chords from the heavenly sphere.
Perhaps time dulls the sadness, keen,
or drives it deeper to a place unseen.
Copyright, July 1, 2026
A grieved pace in a meadow
Haunting last whilst a breeze flows,
Drenched in dried, feverish sweat
Etched on furrowed memories.
A labyrinthine weak heart
Escorted out in the dawn
Alone in an unfeigned world.
Leery was I of the maze
I entered with my young son.
Although a Halloween craze,
it was anything but fun.
Lost in twisting pathways, we
raced through it with dread 'til they
closed the place, and we were free!
Darkness drags my wrecked dreams down
to frail life’s abysmal maze,
bemused hope lost in long loop
where silence of doubt echoes.
I then search for divine light,
to show me the exit path
for journey through labyrinth.
My free life is a bargain.
A gap in time, she bellows.
A right to be defenseless!
Where's the body for the fray?
She swipes at her air guitar,
vocals screaming possession
by genies in brown bottles.
My life has been labyrinth,
but mazy, snaky quagmires;
have made it so hard for me ~
O, many puzzles to solve,
as I seek my one true path,
and I journey on and on;
with life's ebb and flow like waves ~
hazy memory recalls
muffled, echoing footfalls,
and, even a rat can learn,
just as I, again, discern,
plodding down cold empty halls,
stuck inside life's unseen walls,
"oh no, another wrong turn".
Let me stay safe
and lost, so perfectly
in your labyrinth, Bowie.
I am not Jennifer Connelly.
I am Jennifer Christina.
Two of my sisters are not there,
with you.
One of them
is already in the clouds
of another Labyrinth.
The puppets are not
playful in this
maze.
I choose to forget
the last line,
so, I can keep listening
to your songs,
on repeat.
"It's only forever.
Not long at all."
“Yes, I do believe in you,
yes, I do.”
Stairs, take
me nowhere.
Let me run up and
down, mocking
gravity, and my own
sense of direction.
Flip upside down,
downside up,
and through me.
One of us
is effervescent.
One of us is
singing.
One of us is still
listening.
One of us
is magic.
"Your eyes can be
so cruel.
Just as I can be
so cruel."
Find me, only me,
too intensely.
“Live without the sunlight.
Love without your heartbeat.
I…I…I… can’t live within you.”
This soul has endured the wrath of time,
Offered prayers at resentment's shrine.
Lead by one's thoughts down the altar,
And witnessed its union with guilt without falter.
When the sun sat on the burning pyre of regrets,
The ashes of assumption blanketed the night's onset.
The faceless guests applauded at its suffering,
While this soul raised a toast, bleeding.
The first dance came to be on the trampled remains,
Of its younger selves bound by memories' chains.
The white of its gown glowed red,
With each passing thorn left unfelt.
But when the vows were exchanged in silence,
With all of the world's tenderness and patience,
This soul promised to look after every version of the self,
The good, the bad, the ugly, and even the one that stayed twelve.
It learned to love the world around it once more,
For it had let go of the hurt nestled in its core.
"The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive",
Thus it began with oneself — breaking this cycle of grief.
In the labyrinth of the mind, time is a river of lost memories,
A serpent of the future swallowing its tail, dancing on the bridge of night.
In the eternity of moments, presence hides in a corner of shadow,
Like a star burning secretly at dawn, never sinking below.
When thought scatters in waves of dreams and broken desires,
Time is an illusion flowing, but never truly arrives.
The mind is an old clock, ticking in its bizarre rhythm,
Weaving paradoxes, a silent song at destiny's altar.
Like a blind painter sketching his canvases in unknown hues,
We are carried by the wind of memories, by shadows unseen.
In every thought, a paradox finds its place, a fire and a snowfall,
And presence, like a phantom, calls us from another, dreamlike world.
In the endless flow, time is but a shredded dream among the stars,
A never-ending story, told by a bard of heavy silences.
For in the heart of eternity, the mind is but a shadow, a play of shades,
A paradox of existence, a dance of the moment, an echo that never fades.
In the endless labyrinth, we lose our echo among the shadows,
Spirals of thoughts dance across the sky of forgotten dreams.
People become particles of smoke in the ocean of masses,
Estranged, voiceless, they seek light in the crystal darkness.
The ego becomes an altar of illusions, glass statues shining,
Trying to break the silence with the cry of a silent rainbow.
Wealth is a window to a horizon that doesn't exist,
Fame is just a falling star in the endless night.
We are drifting comets, seeking our path among dreams,
Mist flowers embracing the sky with a scent of melancholy.
In the symphony of silence, paradoxes sing their longing for light,
Uniqueness is a shadow, a dream of a common soul.
We paint galaxies of thoughts on the sky of a fragile reality,
Our flight is a fall into the arms of an infinite glass.
Stars weep silver tears in the twilight of a forgotten world,
We are sculptures of time, seeking our place in eternity.
In the labyrinth of my mind, like a tightrope dancer,
I lose and find myself, a shadow in my own magic.
Thoughts flow like an unyielding river,
Creating cascades of doubts and unfulfilled dreams.
Like a stormy ocean, my soul struggles,
Surrounded by sharp rocks of pain and regrets.
Shipwrecked in my own thoughts, I fight for survival,
But the whirlpools of doubt pull me down into oblivion.
From the depths, my wounded cry rises to the sky,
Pleading for help from unseen powers.
But the echo is lost in the desolate expanse,
Leaving me alone in my darkness.
My mind, a double-edged sword,
Capable of brilliance and profound darkness.
Like a consuming fire, it can inspire and burn,
Transforming dreams to ash and hopes to cinders.
Solitude, a blessing or a curse,
A refuge from society's noise or a prison for the soul?
In isolation, my mind finds freedom,
Yet also a faithful companion that whispers secrets no one else would understand.
With every unspoken word, an unfinished story unfolds,
A tapestry of vivid emotions and phantom memories.
I am a prisoner of my own thoughts,
Condemned to an eternity of melancholic reflections.
WHAT I LOVE-WHAT I HATE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PART I
love fiery sunsets bleeding amber and rose--
mountains, valleys, seas, and heaven softly meet
above horizon, molten coin dips and glows
world wades into warm, slumber--gentle and sweet.
you stood beside me, your hand embracing mine
daylight bled, transforming into liquid wine
clouds caught fire, gradually turned to ash—
dusk descended—our silence spoke what words can't match
&&&&&&&
PART II
chaos erodes the labyrinth of my mind,
a fierce ravenous beast that gnaws at the planned.
I hate its claws—untamed, malicious, unkind—
destroying the flawless blueprints in my hand.
I crave the calm, tranquil hum of ordered grace,
a steady rhythm amidst earth's frantic pace,
calculated steps, the path both clear and known,
cadence deeply set, authentically grown.
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