Poetry_In_her_eyes

 A black crow sits on top a lone fence post as passing images blur into a mosaic of forgotten dreams lost in the empty miles of a stark and lonely soul. Unable to turn away the crow grows in the minds eye to encompass the whole of the sky as you realize the luminous beauty.of reds, blues, and, greens in the crow's sleek black cloak but then you look into the eyes you once thought black. Your stare is frozen in silence, beads of sweat and fear cover your brow, and you begin to weep for all the broken dreams drowning the future and the past. Blackness is not just a color but an emotion, monsters under the bed, dark and lonely streets, two bodies embracing in the middle of the night. But the crow's eyes have no emotions hidden behind the blackness, empty of all, a hollow place in your soul where nothing lives or grows, a hole in the universe you fear will pull you in. You weep because you see the ultimate fear, the nothingness we leave behind as we fade into the passing images los...

 The storm blew cold and wet  with the depressing energy of the broken hearted lover yet for all the sadnesss and tears  it screamed a feral fierceness  beating staccato patterns reverberating on the hand pan of the earth The storm swore to drown the soil in her sorrow but the soil drank all her tears  giving birth to seedlings beneath cathedral trees the trees just laughed and danced to the rhythm of the wind  swaying to music older than time  as a waterspout twirled on the forest floor spinning faster then faster still  until she danced in the inbetween spaces of falling tears laughing to a melody of stamping feet and thunder water whipping from her hair as she spun  Lightning echoing the crashing of her feet thunder speaking of stars and sun long into the night the trees bore silent witness  to the convergence of earth and heaven long into the night the cosmic dance grew  to cradle the heartbeat of the storm and slowly rock her t...

The day started out looking for an argument with a blustery with wind gasping and sputtering with ire, always having one more thing to say, and saying it all in a rush. Like a bully in a playground, gusts of wind were knocking over anything wasn't tied down, and quite a few thing that were.    What a day for a street faire but the eternal optimism of artists is only rivaled by the sun and moon and stars. And as everyone knows very well, gnomes and fairies are drawn to artists for there ceaseless sunny dispositions and love of all thing creative and magical. So, with tents tied firmly to the ground and ready to display the artist's wares and guylines held down by the most stalworth of gnomes, it seemed that even the blustery day would relent and smile on this, first first warm day of spring.  A shriek then echoed through the castle halls, all the men at arms drawing their swords, followed closely by the exasperated queen's maid remonstrating "a princess does not shriek...

 I saw the sun rise this morning and thought,  someday we could be holding hands  and cheer as we watch the world begins  And in that brief moment between hope and blindness,  our lives would be free of sin,  free of pain and worry,  free to be as God intended  ... Whole