Dirty Little Secrets

wisdom night,
singing in silence,
when i knew
hunger, too;
and the winter world
crying like blizzards.

a book of stone,
its words moved me,
stars spiralled above,
called to love;
as a hungry world
howled aloneness.

the feel of truth,
hewn from suffering,
tempered steel
solid, real;
in a darkened world
dying in Darfur.

the godless globe,
facing the goddess moon,
indigo dawn,
late, autumn;
my Mother, the world
orphaned your book-stones.

sweet light that fills me
from the silent fountain,
streaming through me,
illuminating the darkness
where divinity
lovingly looks at herself
in the unclouded mirror,
the pool within.

her body permeates mine,
i am not who ‘i’ seem to be
concealed in this clay vessel,
the sleeper has awoken,
she has made her presence felt,
i breathe in her song,
exhaling her thoughts in poetry,
and the light of her smile
flickers behind my eyes.

wordless in silence,
some erotic fragrance
in moments of poppies,
the sea’s between us,
in love came, like a storm
caoining, i am torn…

no preconceptions,
a question, a glance,
a path that connects
something between us,
sacred and divine
as the colour of wine,

in our idle hours
seeing unseen things,
the distant future, dreams,
the past between us,
fill the cup that clears
past and present fears,

quiet solitude,
sipping cups of tea
sweetness and sorrow,
making sense of us,
shining second-sight,
shadows into light.

hey there, double dutch,
so what’s new, how ’bout you,
i’m okay… nothing much,
old wounds i’m licking still,
i can’t forget, he’s not you,
indeed, my words won’t tell,
this price i pay, buys another day,
sometimes against my will,
my so-called life, as such,
though i ponder on it well,
of you i’ve not yet had my fill,
one road leads to you, some say,
sweet love — double dutch

for Her I sing and raise my glass,
the wholly trinity
Future | Present | Past,
I see Her in all Her identities,
deathless through deaths,
revealing true divinity, as a
Light piercing my Heart of Darkness,

Her words, like colors
jostling for attention
on the palette of my thoughts,
Her own secrets — undiscovered
songs within songs — unsung,
karma springing, unsprung,
the drift of it in everything,
Poet of my Soul,

…of She I sing.

my bed is cold,
the night is long,
and on my tongue,
a winter song,
of you who are — so far —

so far and yet so near
maybe it’s the time of year
some how, some day
i will find my way

my words are bold,
perhaps I’m wrong,
to leave unsung,
a winter song,
of you who are — so far —