my dear,
howl at the moon

like a madman
in a cage

rip fragile clothes
from silken skin

and waltz

my darling,
laugh for nothing

but reasons
in the dust

for dust is but dust
when shown to the wind

my lover,
turn to me

let air
fill your lungs

and scream for me

for i wish not
to be

but those
who cannot speak
without smiling

so smile
leaving crows feet
at the door

and run my dear
run throughout the night

a spell on my intention
is a mother of invention
and I now believe the nymphs along the way

while this magic mathematician
wields the slight of her ambition
and my hand is waving on the child's play

the strummer of the lute
and the harlequin's new flute
are serenading that these rules are just a phase

her kind and open heart
says just because we’re worlds apart
it doesn't mean connections won't be made

Once prismatic brilliance;
brilliant only through borrowed light.

Alone again in darkness, gleaming;
glum, instant companion of a night -

blind to grief and deaf to joy,
save by pristine thought on lone-ward height.

Ever calling, feline caterwauling;
In the distance horizon burning bright.

That sparkle in the eye is rekindled; 
Fully renewed at the break of day.

people ask if I meditate still
as I did when my son was first missed
in hours of yoga each morning and evening
seeking answers, assuaged in still bliss

how to reply is a tad difficult
for I spend, I think, more time a day
but in seconds only, in quiet small fragments
never wandering too far away

because, in those epochs of pure golden light
that cleansed me waxed-white with its wisdom
I understood things not especially secret
but simple stuff I had forgotten