Beauty is not an endeavor for you,
Because you were created in nature;
A natural beauty of a garden for two,
Breath blown into you by the Creator.

Woman-
It was you…

So there I dreamed in all my seclusion,
As I anticipated the day of us meeting;
A prayer was answered against destitution,
A rib extracted while I was still sleeping.

Woman-
It was you…

Reflection

The sprites fled the goblins stayed
Was this the winter of my days?
Or just the thought that had gone astray
To haunt me now in these later ways

Did I do all things that were true?
Could I have hurt one such as you?
I feel that in my journey through
there was something better I could do

There I hope that in all my days
That all the bad things in my ways
Would not be shown to other beings
But kept deep inside with other feelings

heavenly pixels
lay your slender screen
alive with diffused vulgarity
softened like a breath upon
the magic mirror

like soot from the coal fires
of an ancient era
when piston driven wheels
spoke night shifts
and wayfreights
hatboxes and trunks
on laden carts

arise sweet forgetfulness
wakened from the slumber
of the dead
like narcotic flowers
perfumed from seedmonies

The emptiness
of my loss
is reducing me
to nothing,
I am sliding
into the arms
of the chasm,
my days
grow shadows,
as the mind
ever weakens
the light of sight
is slowly
being devoured.

Coldness
has gripped
at the center of me,
the fire fails
to warm
the sun refuses
to shine,
flames that once
lit my soul
are now gathered
in the corners
consumed to ash

my moments of clarity
are fading...