the paradox of a promise
one cannot hold

known so well

ask not why

anxiously fleeing
leaden clouds
of dusted wake

and coerced ruination

the black horizon

heaven, pray forgive me


but the bleakest silence
can allay these blighted days

tempting the mirrored gate

it reveals

that it is time

[image credit: Pablo Picasso]


A Thank You

amid the autumn embrace
of this fated fantasy
i stumbled to awaken
in the outskirts of a dream
with every lucid moment
pigments rich from painted past
voices, faces, feelings
more familiar than the last

my every thought, mistaken
by the vacant world i’d known
shone forged in the foundation
of this humble hearth i roamed
the kindness deemed as weakness
preyed upon in days of yore
now flourished as the impetus
to spur the heart’s implore

the essence of my exile
was found precious deep within
the radiance that beamed from smiles
and hearts of honest friends
the endless hours of anguish
seemed to vanish in the void
of resonant romanticism
emanating joy

though not remiss to disregard
the suffering imbued
upon the weary countenance
of every life accrued
such love was seen ensconcing
from the onset of the eve
that ever shall remain inside
again ’til i am freed

so if i may display in earnest
gratitude sincere
the difference each of you has made
in ways beyond compare
for all my years i was bereft
of those who shared my world
now every time a tear is shed
it greets the earth impearled