syncopated fingers take their
ceaseless wanderings drunk of
bottled bubbles and
breathless whispers as
nocturnal rhythms
play Us
~ ~ ~
Hardened
I am stormy weather roughened,
dashed, left beaten on the fjord,
unsurmounted, rendered jagged by the peak
to wit, stripped of mine tattered garb.
though lost not of will and able
yet wonder when the caldron Chills.
Aftermath
this morn the dawn lingers stale,
festered of travails born of eve last
enveloped in yesterday’s promises
still-born of a serrated Night
~ ~ ~
Heat
I am scorched
marred of your fire,
ever stained.
ascend with me,
lay sweltering midst mine ashes
slow water me of your Rain