"The sublime beasts I paint in my dreaming hold no beauty or mystery to the roaring dragons of your eyes..."
In the distance lies a fragrant vineyard rowed and hedged,
the twisted vine of passion's toil
hammered down the demons
of yesterdays desires to feather angels bloodied by thorn, calloused by word.
Somewhere near the rocking tides
and horse-galloping sands,
awakened as night blooms,
an ocean winded quiet soothes on a lonely moon-shadowed path, jaded serene a journey traveled only by silhouettes...
In another vineyard,
blossoms turn toward your
watching with dagger-pierced heartfire.
Once meadows bloomed only for you but now in the sun-turned warmth of a distant soulfire, they fade from jewel to gray and astray are my thoughts under this blackened starlight,
coloring every cloud with curious wonder
Where are the dragons you promised?
Are they made only of clay?
Hidden in the depths
of tear-stained parchment,
torn pages and fragile fingers
words unseen scrolling
beneath the scowls of a lucid heaven
Even words have become
weary of my song
for there is only one I can sing
under this sky
and I wait alone,
knees to chest heart to home,
all tears to heaven
You told me once
that dragons dance the clouds...
but their magic has
burned my hands
and I have gone blind
It is done.
The world has forgotten my name,
the candle of my days
a number pulled from shipwreck shores
A copper mirage of quiet shimmer echoes a distant laughter
over the crest of rolling,
But in another vineyard
where flowers bloom
and fruit smiles ripened
your eyes turn with out hesitation
they turn from gray to jewel.