2017 03 27
The days when we danced all night by the river
are gone with the wind over distant hills
and now I sit alone at night and shiver
on the park bench where the light of street lamps
cannot find me in the shadows of hope
though I lost the photograph that showed us
laughing together in the bar that closed
years ago after the man with no name
died one afternoon before the war ceased.
I still hear the enchanting melodies
of saxophones swirling from old glass doors
that teach the raindrops how to glitter truth
though love replaced the mask I chose to wear
and somewhere on the road I lost the keys
yet still I feel the kiss we chose to share
before the cold day we had nothing left.
I wonder why no one can hear my sigh.
Though you are long gone somewhere down the road,
I could not follow since the signs were changed,
I feel you ever walking just behind
the shadow of desire that follows me
because I cannot hope to know the true reason
love tricked me with the code for liberty
so I cannot escape the taint of treason
smeared across the mask of laughter I wear.
My tale is written in the tattered book
that no one reads because the winter light
still glimmers silent on the flowing brook
though flame of love still flickers in the night.
I wonder what truth I will find on high.
I think I traveled through so many towns,
and walked the city streets in night and day,
and felt the pulsing sorrow of hot sun,
and felt the splashing doldrums of cold rain,
that I forgot the name my mother said
when she would call me through the open door
to come and eat before the evening falls.
I cannot see now in dim memory
the color of her eyes that looked at me
though every house along the winding road
still shimmers clear before my dreaming eyes
so if I wait beneath the sunless skies
the Angel of God may descend on wings
of flaming fire through swirling clouds of rain
and give me sacred scroll of mysteries
so I can understand the reason why.
I wonder if I should learn how to fly.
I waited forever on rain-soaked hill
sheltered by the tree without leaves or fruit
but no Angel descended from fire clouds,
and no sacred book, that explains in code
all the secrets of our vast universe,
lies in my empty hands now wet from mud
where I planted tiny black apple seeds,
so I pick up the wand Death left for me
and scratch thin Runes on the breast of the Earth
to calculate the formula for truth.
While wandering city streets in languid rain
I stopped at random on some vibrant spot,
where I could feel pure waves of energy
radiating through fabric of space and tme,
to gaze in eyes of strangers passing by,
and sing strange visions flashing in my eyes,
but no one ever stopped to listen close
and all the sentences of dreams I sang
still spiral rippling in deep atmosphere
to wander nowhere in abyss of light.
I wonder if I will ever know why.
The pointless day when I was twenty-one,
when I felt fragile mask of self I wore
shatter at the question no one dares ask,
I reassembled puzzle of my mind
from fragments of the mirror I designed
and built new mask to hide my nameless soul.
Each time my words or actions hurt some heart
that beat unseen inside frail shell of flesh
I sat alone in shadow of the tree
where ravens wait while flapping fateful wings
to rewrite the script in my play of life
but no scene of desire ever repeats
so here alone on stage I stand and wait.
I wonder what she sees inside my eye.
While I was writing new story last night
about midnight, when blue-eyed girls will cry,
I was starting to zone out in dream state,
and sensed someone walking up behind me
to hand me a book with new secret codes,
so I turned to accept the book of spells,
but then I snapped awake at flash of hope
and I was alone, sitting in my room,
with silver moonlight weaving through my eye.
One universe exists of pulsing atoms
that spiral into suns which nourish worlds
where conscious creatures emerge from cool stream
of mountain rivers to dance in the cave
where the infinite sun of souls was born,
and sing the visions that flash through their brains,
each brain one node of multiverse we dream.
I ponder the reason we live and die.
I come to the river again and dance
because electric sparks of flashing stars
surge through my body in waves of desire
then I writhe to be hope of glowing flame
so I can remember my spirit name.