Ante Merediem

Butterflies play in miniature

forests am I'mid o I'm ofgiant footsteps,

engulfed by the breeze

that is as faint as a fading promise

while on a tour to bid us farewell.

The needles of a distant conifer,

whisper among their acquaintances

as fresh dew glisten on vibrant

blades of grass while collecting

and sluggishly dripping to the

dark soil below.

A sea of gray hover at a

grueling pace while surrounded

by patches of blue. Fractured

streams of light, struggle to

break through while searching

for freedom.

More From Solitary Confinement (Solitary Confinement 1-7)

Conversations echo down a hallway
and extend into a dark winter evening.
The cadence of footsteps drift slowly
as they fade into oblivion.

As I momentarily stare through
a painted window, my reflection stares
at me. Streams of light shine
from a ceiling and vents whistle
in baritone.

Unfamiliar pages lay across

a flat thin mattress and even the tiny ridges

on the wall beg for freedom.

It's Always About A Woman

Grandeur is more evident from your presence
in the midst of Autumn.
Many smiles have passed and their imprint
eternally occupy time and space.
Razor wire may serve as a barrier between
a caged bird and the sky
but my affection for you will never die.

Time and wealth may slip through my

fingers like grains of sand.

Yet, the dwindling is rarely noticed

unless meandering in limbo.

A volatile storm called passion may

come and go but the tail winds will

bring ease to the pain.

My heart is the only vessel that has been

enslaved. As I watched the pace of distant

traffic from a window etched in

more than just glass, I still

dream of you in thoughts of pleasure

and life is instantly grand.

From Solitary Confinement (Solitary Confinement 1-7)

I am still in the process of counting

the bricks on the wall but the

tiny ridges are infinite and the

latter tally appears to be an

insurmountable feat.

Conversations echo at odd

hours and late nights merge into

early mornings. Faucets drip and

the steady cadence is therapeutic.

I stare into oblivion while draped

by a shroud as I contemplate the

divested times. Cold metal is

reminiscent of a heart, lost in

the midst of winter

to only be revived by a strangers warmth,

I AM STILL ALIVE! 

Terra Firma

A pendulum will swing as the seasonal
earthly tones of autumn litter my mind
and reflect in the pupils of her eyes.

Her valley which is the epitome
of strength, will bear abundance and
I will revel in extravagance.

Palms will caress each other for the
first time and a void will be refilled
by delight and reverence.

Dawn will breach the morning sky from
a distant horizon and the lukewarm
light which is the source of life,
will put us back on solid ground.
 
Splendor will be etched in time and our hearts
will find the courage to make a truce.

Streams of Light

Fractured streams of light 
struggle to run for freedom 
amid the faint breeze.

A Sunset

Various shades of a passionate sky 
collide with each other as the sun 
slowly vanishes below the horizon.

The clouds that hover closely, appear 
as if they are being consumed by fire. Each 
one is burning with a desire that is  
as intense as a lover.

Shades that range from a transparent 

pink to a smoldering inferno, exists for 

only one purpose; the display of grandeur 

is a provisional beacon of hope.

The sky is a sea that is as vivid as a 

dream while occupied by the islands 

that float. Dusk is nigh as the darkness 

of night descends from afar 

rendering the stage to a crescent 

moon and stars.

Prima Facie

At first sight, you were more than 
just pleasing to my eyes. Even the 
ground on which you walked, appeared 
to be mesmerized by your graceful 
steps. Every repetition was an early 
glimpse of heaven in high heels. 

We enjoyed the luxury of squandering
the days of an aging summer, engulfed 
in a paradoxical maze of sunsets 
accompanied by a tender symphony. 
As skin brushed against skin and 
breathless nights paved the way 
for jaded mornings, 

I was drained yet pleased while pleasure 
resonated and doubt left. You and I 
both brandished our hearts on 
decorated sleeves. We were drawn to 
each other, you were a light and I  
was a moth, lost in the abyss of a 
silent introspective existence. 

Stanzas of our Rendezvous

Pupils dilate while index fingers 
twirl loose strands of hair.
A valley, damp...gentle peaks,
pointed hills.... succulent and bare.

Engulfed by abundance while at 
a picnic, seconds transformed 
into minutes. The grains of sand 
that slip through the fingers 
are regarded as infinite.

A placid lake, secluded and 
distant, a place where private 
thoughts ensue. The memories 
of you still linger as well as our
rendezvous. 

 

A Bridge

A Bridge will connect us,

a wall will separate us.

So, which one are you 

trying to build?

A world exists beyond 

these gates and that is 

where my heart belongs.

Hours pass. So does light.

Trains and cars do as well.

Dreams stay behind the 

lids of hopeful eyes

while prancing in the 

darkness of a placid night. 

A Bridge will connect us,

a wall will separate us.

So, which one are you 

trying to build?