Calmaffine

droplets of lead from skies above flowing flooding and now stealing light of life with heavy burden of suffocating sound of endless black void its darkness now lies broken by gales carrying a whisper forming a song of love caressing with hollowed fingers devoid of warmth a stolen voice echoing its words lay muted in the depths of the abyss longing to express a new hopeful sentiment

The sun had sunk ever melancholic; the moon was now tempted to rise and frolic - cloaking itself in shimmers it stole, usurping dead star's hollow role its mantle warping as it slid above, the inky void surrounding it did shove, as the scraps from its mantle nestled in place - shimmering shot with beauty and grace. earth's waters started to weep, weep and weep; weeping lullaby, pulling us asleep - to a never-ending dreamy nightmare - leaving us in ground's forceful care.

Gone like an ember and forgotten without a sizzle or a sound The wind had snubbed the life of that lonely candlelight

As I was sat at the end of the way, hair battered, weathered and coloured half grey; periled the journey without going astray, however the end not without dismay. "The end is never the goal or treasure, it is the adventure as you travel, that will certainly give you most pleasure - beyond even rubies thick as gravel" Final dots on i's, crosses in t's, as the last drops of ink are pushed afore, the final piece written, soul now at ease I take a bow and leave, show me the door. My pen has dried and requires hydration - and soon I will be back at my station.

walking upon the empty streets of the corpse of a town buried under the silk cover of the clouded night's sky blessed by the insomnia of the wind that cradled the crows in their sleep as I climbed through the old cemetery up the hill where I sat on the railroad still exhausted by the abuse from an old steam locomotive recently retired as my gaze was drawn to the valley before me where I now saw the barren empty lands where livestock once roamed its void only accentuated by the cold white light from a lone lamppost as the wind went to bed and all was quiet for a moment I sat there and wantingly waited waited and waited until it dawned and I was Home

Come now love take my hand - we felt a spark now let us dance; our dance of passion ever banned - but none can quell this burning romance. So come now and dance with glee - Our hearts burning, our worlds turning; As we escape our prisons now dancing free; scattering embers and never returning. As we leave behind charcoal rubble, with pearlescent molten white in a puddle; As we now raging across the range - dancing and playing our little games; living now in disarrange - us little escaped candleflames.

walking upon the empty streets of the corpse of a town buried under the silk cover of the clouded night's sky blessed by the insomnia of the wind that cradled the crows in their sleep as I climbed through the old cemetery up the hill where I sat on the railroad still exhausted by the abuse from an old steam locomotive recently retired as my gaze was drawn to the valley before me where I now saw the barren empty lands where livestock once roamed its void only accentuated by the cold white light from a lone lamppost as the wind went to bed and all was quiet for a moment I sat there and wantingly waited waited and waited until it dawned and I was Home

white dove spreads on rosy sunrise, blooms like a tender smile unfurled from ripening lips 'neath a songbird's cry imploring pearly whites to match lonely winged beauty in blushing skies -- by stretching upon their soft pink hide

Rainstorms and thunder The Muse whispers in my ear Another night song

i. here in isolation, we begin the fallout. everything around us makes us pull the knives out. once i turned to you when all the world was making chaos sounds; now we run away and run our ships aground, entire days lost. what cost can be discerned of loss and lives set fire? churn my stomach into wreckage, lover. what will we have learned? ii. as the night evades, we are tyrants in our ruling places. color me so purple that the worries fall up into space. ardor isn't earned, it is the currency of loneliness. i'm spent. iii. i've spent the last three days in solitude, a quiet i can't place now that it's over; what a melody is overbearing noise! no choice stings quite like you, and no regret is louder than the truth. up on the roof, the rain gives all of us illusions: we are not what we believe to be revealed. iv. if i had to explain it— and someday i worry i will— i would first look for paper, pen, mercy. v. the blueprint of a heart is volatile; everyone knows but no one