A strange request for beauty

Okay, here is another evaluation of another perspective...

THE HUNGER DRAGON

Inside there is a discovery waiting and that is the magic: your heart crying out for home, companion, love, god, but the pain is where you find your way home, here the light enters you; to embrace that without fear, to just let, and become, and be.

The madness is just the change that the mind cannot process, and going through that doorway is like going through another dimension, but it is just going home.

There is a bird, so far beyond our reach, shining silver in the sun, it is our yearning that brings us to know we are that bird.

Not any crowd could breathe this hole in the breeze, but like an oak in your resolve or the reed flexible, let your heart be still, so when the Indians come to eat your stew you can bend either way like the breeze that sways through the way, under the moon that flows in splendour to make a conversation.

A STRANGE REQUEST FOR BEAUTY

A huge wind is roaring up like a captured heart finally set free, yet the moon’s beauty is in my hall and I have suffered for its silence.

But if the bamboo reeds strike at dawn sunlight’s desire then set love’s surrender upon my heart the secret value of dust.

No pen can write this, a fever like no other.

This is mercury n hot inside the out of the in some and such of a purse of love that comes in the morning of waking when you are lying there, just there like nowhere else you can be, but where you are, yet you know you are of all of it, a fleeting glimpse of a dance divine.

BROKEN BY GOD

See if pain brings redemption as the west wheel of eternity passes the full moon at midnight with a lot of goose about how to grease the chicken, but then chickens are not birds that fly, but if the moon’s beauty is in the hall and you have suffered for it then be two tone and the magic touch in the dust of it unless the burnt log of desire is another hogwash pickle or an imperfect poem, another casualty upon the lips.

And if the dustbin cadaver has eaten all the liquorice where ten thousand asking’s and prayers slip away without wings then know there really isn’t anything anyone can say to guide you anymore than this unless the best part of the day is the setting sun yellow and orange over the waves murmuring on the shore just for you, the day taking its applause as the sun slips into the beauty sea.”

THE GAP BETWEEN THINGS

I cannot seemingly seem more than I am, nor take umbrage in my failings, I say to myself in the huge thrown room with a fire that roars silently.

The boat takes me to you, but the message is not this.

In that other room now I hear my calling again, spoken in a language only my heart knows.

I would fly there anon of all that I am, and leave behind all this.

There is a bridge between the gap of all that is known, a doorway, and an entrance, something to pass through to the other side.

It is a thing of beauty.

Yet you remain silent as I expound this broken thing in your mystery.

I cry all that I am, but...

And now I hear, in that other room, a sound, a vision, a yearning of me.

Does my compliance appropriate this: some calling heard distantly?

Too many questions.

Perhaps I am making this all up into something that is not.

Perhaps and maybe.

Well, I want to hear the joy. See the light. Feel the deep of you. The nectar to awaken me.

I want to be overwhelmed in your abundance. To swim in it all. I am here. I am.

Take me in your arms and love me always. Never leave me alone.

I talk too much tonight with the dogs asleep near the fire, and a moon a thousand stars deep in its mystery.

Rooms of silence seem, some things are too quiet, and some things beckon on.

But to become entwined with your meaningfulness and we become one.

That day when I join you and become you.

When the birds that fly east no longer sing of sorrow.

I cannot say this in words anymore that try to bridge the gap. Take me now, I am yours, completely.

Alone in my own house with only the teeth I use to chew rocks, crickets calling, dogs asleep, wind beginning to howl, noises far off, big moon again.

Image from Pixabay