Romeo and Juliet were fiction
as if that's not enough
her balcony in Verona
originally a medieval sarcophagus
no more than a tourist attraction
may also have been a water trough
and the Dal Capello family building
where he posed 'through yonder window?'
'but soft' and completely off-the-cuff
to which it's now attached
was once a 13th-century inn
but as stories go really quite unmatched
With apologies to William Shakespeare
we met a friend today
who triumphantly exulted
his profound void experience
as he correlated it with scriptures
jubilant on his remarkable breakthrough
we did not have the heart to tell him
he had but scratched the surface
and that ego death awaited
Shining through the dark
I met a star - so tiny, quiet and so far.
But her shining was so bright. I was magnetised and so delighted and I couldn’t stop my self and ask her:
“How could you - such a tiny and sweet star and from so far, have such power and send us your light here, to the beings of the dark.
The star was so pleasantly surprised by the asking of that strange and so intriguing creature, being unfortunately so far.
She got shy and she replied:
“I was made to shine and be the light, who would create this magical connective path. And we, no matter how far one from another, meet each other. Now you can always feel me through my shining light and I will save you from your deepest dark.”
If your heart is open
and true
Your grief is as deep
as your love
(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)
It's not water droplets frozen in zero gravity,
Completely absorbing your naked chest.
It's the glitter and the sun embody ,
Like small shards , are protecting
Your body from looks or any touch.
And you, the pampered, are rejoicing
And your perky smile does not subside
By having fun,
When I'm trying to get to you, already
Covered in cuts.
03.11.2022
If we remember to look at horizon and sky
The Universe draws us higher, whispers a reply
We all are stardust yet somehow so earthy
Humans eschew solid troughs, for color & crest (the showy)
deep circular scars…
cold dark troughs between sandbars
sharks larger than cars
Hot sun on my back, leaning over the horse trough,
scrubbing the green slim off the sides.
The edge burns my hands and arms as I look for a hold,
Finally cooling the rim with water from the pump.
The bouquet from the trough instantly painted a familiar picture
Of hot, still summer lakes,
Sitting under ancient willows,
Fishing for what ever small life would sacrifice itself to a young fisherman.
Water bugs scoot around the tall grasses ringed with green algae.
Teased by a breeze, willow fingers wrap around a daydream.
One of conquering its mighty branches, with tree houses and rope swings,
While crawdads keep stealing the bait.
The water is clean and clear and cool again.
With memories of her own, my horse pays homage to my work
By burying her face in the trough up to her eyes,
And blowing bubbles out of her nose.
(Some warm nostalgia for a cold winter day.)
Love was the wind upon the ocean
The crest high and trough low
we the wave in lovers tow
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