Simple
Cold
...Spartan

Moments pass
impressions don’t

the Impression
of that Tree Wet and Dead
I so dread

I dread dark, cold and wet
Yet the Night’s solace stays unmatched

sometimes
the moments we steal
are not enough
to make us forget
that life is heavy.

sometimes
the moments we steal
are not enough
to make us fall in love
with life again.

i wish i could take the art off the walls,
and the moon from the sky,
and brew it like tea.

add boiling water and simmer the world down
so it is just sweetness.

i wish i could take a sip of it,
early in the morning,
before the chaos begins to rise with the sun.

a sip at lunch
a reminder of the world's beauty.

and a sip at dinner, just before bed
to wash away the day.

(it would taste like freedom)
(it would taste like peace)

It’s something that you smell
It’s something that makes you feel at home
It’s something that brings comfort
What is that for you?

What brings you the feeling of a tight hug?
What brings you the feeling of protection?
Is it a thing or a who?
Do you have a someone to lean on?
Do you have someone to make everything fade?

That’s the goal isn’t it?
It find a solace in life
A place of absolute comfort and trust
To find somewhere you feel at home
Is it your home or a different place?
Is it a person, place, or thing?
What makes you feel like you’re safe?
Where is your safety blanket?
Who is your safety blanket?

It’s a feeling of warmth wrapped all around
It’s a feeling of strength and assurance
It’s a feeling that cannot be mimicked
You’ll know what this feeling is when you have it
In that moment
You’ll feel at peace
The weight of a thousand sand bags will lift
The weight of all your worries
Gone with the wind
Turned into a feather to be blown away

Have you felt this?

In the dawn's embrace,
A weary soul seeks solace
In fading stars and a silent sky.
Where shadows dance in solemn waltz,

Echoes linger of dreams erased,
Life's fragile thread unravels, faults.
The weight of the world, a heavy shroud,
Lifted in a poignant plea, one last sigh.

That last breeze,
A final goodbye

A light that beckons,
The chance to be free.

In the solace of lavender-flickering
Fairy lights that guide
My syllables along,

Silence has never felt so
Concrete.

Silence, on questions I have asked my
Conscious for repetition, and
To hunt for answers
To unwritten dialogue,

And as I contemplate this concept,

The beauty of ringing church bells
Bleeds and creeps
Through my window,

Slicing through the distorted
Avenues and Sulcis of silence
In my mind,
                      To remind me
                                                Of where I am.
Lying in the back of my car,


Keys in the transmission,
Waiting,
                                          ­                        Hoping,
For a new path to explore
In this eclectic figure 8 of
Communication and relationship. I never
Try to make sense of it all,

Until
A faint whisper from a Princess unshackles
My liberating-attempting mind,

A faint whisper, harmonizing with the
Church bells,
Soothingly-caresses my ears,

A faint whisper,
Carrying,
The words.
I’ve.
longed.
To.
hear.






“Come with me this way.”







Hallucination of grace.
An overflowing melting ***
Of desire.





Stillness. Gracious like
A still river. Cercadas sing,
Rocks in awe don’t move.





Until the moment of that faint whisper,
I’ll remain in the spacious jar of silence,
Waiting,
For the Princess’ voices,
While the solace of lavender-flickering
Fairy lights
Guide my syllables along.

At Night, I often lock My Eyes,
as I stare up at the Sky.
I hope to Romance the Moon,
That's perched there up so High.
I stretch out both My Hands,
Hoping She falls into My Arms.
I wish My Prayers were heard
and they bring Me all Her Charms.
Through the looking glass of Mine,
I see the Universe that's out There.
There's Darkness all around
and Romance is Everywhere.
What good is this World to Me,
if it cannot offer Me it's Love?
This broken Heart of Mine,
found solace from Above.

as the rest move in a herd in time, fixed and onward
some remain at a pace of their own
slower,
wallowing in crevices, an act of conscious apartheid
familiar with the shortage of influence, that is, separation.
wandering by will
vicariously living through a phobia of confusion
hence why lost souls remain lost
fear of false direction, fear of decision
uncertainty amongst hysteria
a deadly duo for the few
settlement has become still
and those lost are familiar with movement
2 steps forward, 12 steps scattered
here and there and it's unclear
up and down
its all around the dance to delusion goes to no sound
but illusion.
distress within the body whose mind follows curiosity
incessant pondering yields a detriment
to the thinker,
be about
your quest and breed your farewell to the
blissful life of ignorance
that now follows you
-
is there a solace to be found for these creatures?
has the point of no return passed?
the distance behind is immeasurable
for the path previously paved is dimly lit
to decipher the single instance is a feat of all men
does the lone wolf recall?

It snowed last night which pleased me - but hardly enough - it just teased me.

The thin, white sheet of snow looked bright and fresh
the dull, browned hedges of fall became holiday dressed,
the air had a sharp, chill perfume and the ground a new, sparkling flesh.

Lisa, a New Yorker who knows snow, gawked at me as if I were insane,
“You’re excited by NOTHING,” she sarcastically complained.

I replied, “When it snows there’s a quiet solace, and the world looks clean and flawless.”

The weatherman is promising us a blanket of snow this weekend
and that would be nice, a storm of ice, to lock us in as the week ends