demon eyed moon

heavy lidded

transparent membranes

flitting clouds

saturnine countenance

overborne silence

something deep

creatures lurking

silence hiding

under the surface

of inane chatter

smiling faces

happy times

hidden feelings

Stillness before the motion

Something warm hiding

Below cool surface breeze.

Silence, leviathan submerged

An ocean of sound.

Curious waiting

In living for the moment.

Something sad and beautiful lies in the fall of a golden leaf,

more common and more mournful than a falling star.

Those are portents of great things, nothing so close to us

as the death of autumn leaves, touching the earth.

Solemn reminders that nature forgets her children .

And time, like the cold wind, carries us away.

Art- an amalgam of mistakes,

Hoping they cancel each other out.

Rather like friends and friendships.

Imperfect things you learn to love.

Things never said,

Pathogens never found.

Festering and poisoning

What should be healing.

Briny ocean, rolling tides.

Tsunamis with empty swells

finally retreat, flowing back;

greeting their source anew.

Leaving confused eddies

to disturb peaceful sands.

I wonder if the beach is lonely

when the sweeping currents flee

and the ocean tide is low.

Does it cry for their return,

or wait in solemn solitude?

Lux in tenebris lucet.

Light shines in the darkness.

Friendships, stars in the night.

Shapes emerging

from primordial mist,

hills arise as fog recedes

under the assault of night.

Dark branching fingers

reach into the unknown.

Earth meets sky again

in grey winter oneness.

Meagre muse,

Dying, dead.

All the art is gone

Within my head.

A cupped hand waiting,

catching falling stars,

saucer of the milky way.

An upturned scythe

to reap the harvest,

A glittering scale

to weigh the heavens,

A thousand things

the flesh tinted moon

might say.

Don't want to move,

want to meld with the fallen tree,

want to melt with the snow,

and be washed to sea.

The lights go out.

I have found

That shadows are real,

And friends only figments

Of the imagination.

I woke in darkness

to find that silken silence

to find that silken silence

draped a gossamer net

around the world,

and trapped each as they were—

together or alone.

Friends were light in the dark,

keeping it at bay.

Now the stars are gone,

hiding somewhere far away.

Thus the night has fallen,

and I wait for day.