Wednesday, February 13, 2008

"La tristesse durera toujours"

Beneath the star studded sky, a faint melancholy,
a song of heart or perhaps a mourn.
Happiness enriched, the breeze smiled,
a reflection of the countenance of her.

the silver streams harmonized
the breeze in tandem played
the song of her heart she felt in nature
and everywhere she wandered

For God has his words spread to the ears,
Some mouth the gnomic pronouncement
others feel and mime the pious chant
but she sang to hearts content...

but my dear, your songs fell
on deaf ears filled with noise of the world
I wish I could understand the sighs that
laced the sorrows and eternal bliss

You loved the world dearly
even when they forsook your soul
Your songs exuded the life
that they all frivolously lived

Your love made the mundane come alive
Your songs exemplified passion
Yet I can understand the agony accompanied
For a listener your heart sought

And with the songs you passed away
But in the songs you lived
For life in a different meaning you taught
To me and the world left behind.

Into the blue...

The deep blue submerges the obscure, the plenty
I stretch forth my hand to dive in and be revived.
Time, comes and goes, and brings with it the nothing,
Washing my feet on the coarse shore...
and i look, stare as far as my eyes reach,
where the cerulean blankets the blue,
interplay of colors and merging within...and i wonder is it life?
Is it life...i look for?
Is it myself?
& i stretch forth my hands to fly into the oblivion,
Where the depth merges with the zenith.
the sylph frees me, or so i think..
but only enmeshes, like a sylphs' hair dancing with the wind.
& I wonder..the oblivion knowing no bounds, curtails my forlorn soul for what reason.
I wish i could dive in, fly...into the blue without certitudes,
for even forlorn to the eyes, I'll have myself.
For standing on the shore only begging, I have lost me.
Do i look for a soul as forlorn or a reviver?
Do i wish for a paint brush to fill colors to the limitless canvas,
or the canvas itself?
But standing, a hope flickers, someone in the far reaches is listening,
to the unsaid, the untold, the undone.