More Writings From Dresden

God...I don't know, inspiration! Hehe, oh well ^-^


1.
Like something-shocking
In sadness, all, yet not
Consuming, perhaps the World
Seems to Enjoy
Changing itself in April.
Arguments for September, perhaps--
Both Equinoxes
Covered.
In tender, translucent-white blossom
Maybe it is simply myself,
To think of a flower over
Dresden, over Shiloh,
Over all--
A snake or a Wolf--either.
It returns to Dresden
Or you.
And perceptions again, all in perceptions...


2.
In January it was so.
Imaging my life following
The course of an Air War--
In January--
Then it was you, perhaps,
While the Bastogne
Turned to snow
While the Ardennes
Once again, utilized.
What foretells the falling
Of the Sky the like
Coming of February?
March?
And finally...
Yet, Spring.
Rebirth or reaffirmation.
Whichever was it is viewed
And no Baron, no not this time,
Only fire.


3.
Why:
It all came blurred and
Hurried, a Limit of Hours
On how much you mean, he
And I perhaps meant
More but only
For Time.
Damn it all, but the
Difference in numbers should
Mean something
To you,
It is beautiful, both
The crux of it and the
Truth, left behind somehow
He stood, halo'd
But in One Moment he came,.
And nothing then...since
The City, yet


4.
We may, somehow,
Share the remainder of what
Happened in April.
And exactly How...
Which matters
As it does.
As you do.
And Dresden! It all equates
As perhaps it did to Charleston
And may. Anniversaries
Pass, before it finally
Mattered to me, tho'
This differs to you. I should
Like to ask, then, as some sort of reassurance,
Did it?
That, I mean...
You, seemingly, something
More. Is love enough for
350,000?
And if not, what will be?


5.
The convoys crossing
Ice-locked Hostile seas and that
In itself explains
War.
The Northern portion.
The beauty in Eastern
Perception, before it left.
In essence, the intricacies of
All: accomplished:
You...
Too fair for Moscow
Too late for Saint Petersburg
That last, imparting
Of Blue. And the words
Existed. They continue--existing
Prussian-Blue
Or, simply,
Prussia.
And in winter-constant darkness,
The ships pass


6.
It meant so much--
How beautiful, von Schlieffen's lines
Drawn carefully and planned,
In lovely models--
They saw it not, then, not at
All. The French, and neutrality
This last, failed.
Experiment. How
Grand! How much
It means and love, stated
Plainly. The last Prussian
And perhaps of Italian
Stock.
It means sill, more,
Then I can say, whether it is
The final throes of Winter
Or the first gasps of
Spring.
In all the Empty
Spaces.
It used to be
You.



A/N: Stay tuned for more...LOL!