The forest knows not its majesty
though mankind may seek her end
his verdant mother’s dynasty
will its inheritance defend
and though her will
be not to kill
her errant progeny
a waiting grave
is for him saved
beneath her fallen leaves
The forest knows not fragility
though mankind may think that way
fate be the greenwood’s dynasty
to reign long past his days.
what bright pleasures are illuminated
out from shadows by your eyes
I yearn to sample every sin
that lit within our glances lie.
I dreamt warm of a black sea
and even darker skies
beneath both
I thought on the mysteries
that hide behind your eyes
are we but the narcotic dreams
from ancient poppies ground between
the the pestles and the galipots
of medieval alchemists?
and as such dreams may we partake
of conscious pleasures when we wake
to wander freely in the light?
oft denied us by the night
but what is truth, what may we see
to hold as our reality?
Is this existence all it seems
could we be more than fleeting dreams?
I fear this path will end its way
not in green glades or garden’s sun
but that it on my troubles plays
returning to where it’s begun.
A demon’s fire ring in the forest
frames these passioned stories told
sensations heightened in the flames
only the devil’s fingers hold
mid-summer’s dry air stokes the fires
soon the woods themselves ablaze
and the maddening crescendo
seems it could the whole world raze.
how sweet these transient dreams of flight
safe in the feathered wings of night
that brought you across the clouds to me
to share a blessed affinity
in pure embraces occupied
within our never-ending sky
this poet’s pen
is ne’er bereft
of unfinished songs
and dreams of death
in a solitude at day’s end
alone upon some timeswept shore
I think of tomorrows left to me
and yesterdays I’ll see no more
but in this moment with the sea
lost in commune with the tides
it reminds me in their ebbs and flows
how past and futures must collide.
I weep not for the fading rose
nor for its petals dried
for within life’s impermanence
is where beauty’s truth resides
