Curtains of Chimera

There are no truths nor untruths;

only things that are and that change

as we change - 

my fantasy is my reality 

until the curtains of chimera 

are pulled away from my illusions...  

and so I wonder.

Candle Light

In the darkness where I may dwell

I am the candle light as well

that conquers the night

even if only for a moment

to ease the solitary torment.

A Compass of Truth

 

An old man's best friend

When the ways and means

Become disentangled from vision

And even the familiar, spin the needle.

   This compass knows the end.

On the 5th Day of 'Rona

 

How surreal the world becomes

when on a string like a kite;

each movement of the head sways

and blends together - alike.

A plasma of visions in sugar plums

as one sits idle and in a muddled daze

the 'Rona fog has consumed

thoughts until further notice - to resume-

The Keep

 

 

He sits at his place by the hearth

And he absorbs all that he sees.

Like a sentinel at the tower’s kype

A nonagenarian with pallid swarth

Major Arch Ives keeper of books

And knower of the wars known by a number.

He reads chronicles of movements and battles

As time keeps still - while he looks.

 

The Major holds court at his familiar coffee-shop nook.

The chair and table could never be in rime

Without passersby submitting their waivers

That Major Ives knows life; he is no rook.

He tells of hailing from a city of Grove

And then traveling to a Grove of sugar.

With new bride and Lassie pups to raise

He reminisces, “Life’s dreams were our trove.”

 

The days were golden with nectar ever so sweet.

The sun light was right, and it all made sense.

When came Tia - then another; and another

And his bride could move no longer; stillness was replete.

Ten years went by and so went life’s circles

From a Grove to a small place near a Square

Where the Major could be near her care

And his stillness keeps: “Only memories without miracles”.

 

The Major sits alone pursuing his books of history

Says he regrets leaving City of Grove,

“Perhaps she would not have been stricken.

 - If only; if only …

MacArthur had stayed at the Bataan Peninsula”.

Now The Keep is full misery.

Major Arch Ives awaits the last chapter’s write

And prays and believes that those small strokes

Will give him the power to keep death at bay.

He muses, “Now, I keep wait for a major to take the Major”.

Seems only right.

 

What we keep - cannot; will not be held.

What we see, as age changes visions,

Are the stones and the jewels that we once strewn

About with open hands and foolish hearts not in weld.

The impermanence of a candle’s light

Keeps the encompassing dark away;

Keeps a heightened breath quiet;

 

And in The Keep – flickers an ever-dimming sight.

Dance of the Dryad

The line of trees weaved at the heavens

With intertwined arms entreating wanders

To trespass into the secret why

No secrets held nor told; ‘tis the dryad’s way

“Seek me if you will – I am life beyond”

And in the quiet of the woods, I came to rest

At the feet of hamadryad, my soul seeks no more.

Paradox of Signs

The way was long

the signs were not;

"Hasten home "

the scene granted

as the waning moments

lost all sense of direction

and I stood as a paradox

of the signs -

a light in a box of darkness.

The Hotel Stoic

The comings and goings of the flop house, that is his carefully molded mind, begets
many a character that neither pays nor works for their stay and most eventually meander away
to whatever place launched their lostness however, a few remain to stir the asylum
into a tea of madness...

the windows are always open.

Shadows to Believe

I can no longer perceive 

How truth can not receive

It's guise nor its nakedness

Without first seeking a darkness

Where light is useless -

Yet, I unfold into the shadows -

I believe.

(Photo by Ruth Z)

Reason in Doubt

 

Where there is chaos

There is concinnity

Where there is dispassion

There is coherence

Follow all doubt

There may be reason.

A Dream

She asked, “Where are you headed?”

Her inquisitive eyes were filled with curiosity

And danced with a convivial energy 

That only her lovely smile could rival.

Thus, she held a fascinating story to grasp.

However, the dream must be followed,

He simply gave a glance and wondered,

“Where am I - going?”

And replied only to the path's call.

Wind and Sails

 

The sails ask not the ship's mast for a sense of place; 

the sails tell not the thermals which direction shall find land;

the sails know not the winds that drive their presence;

the winds never wonder why the ship, the mast or sails

need to reason for emotion.

The winds are an existential relative for all things

that must have movement.