In the silence of nighttime,
In the entrancing drone of distant air conditioners and fans,
Enchantment sparks its way into life –
Life itself becomes alive in the simplicity and beauty
Of experiential potential and the creative imagination
That breathes meaning and delight
Into each moment of mindful awareness,
Into the true dreams of your heart.
Mid-day hours of sworn peace and beauty quiet
Spoke to art of the Romance of Life in its splendour.
The gentle breeze caressed the leaves outside.
The chirping birds’ melody broke through the glass door,
And nomad clouds followed the trail of the whispering wind.
~*~
Oh, have mercy, you savage beast!
I heard the calling in the garden of bliss,
Close to nature’s wonders,
Cradled by nymphs, kissed by fairy lips
Between reveries of light beams.
I felt the calling, and to honour it,
I deemed it worth the working –
That if expression would suffocate,
In loving it would find salvation,
Birthing the harmonious translation
Of natural delight with each breath endeavour.
~*~
Oh, have mercy, you savage beast!
For all the moments weaved by flowing serenity,
For all the moments blest by heartfelt sublimity,
Silence now the vertigo of your haunting!
In this land, corresponding,
Is the Goddess of Beauty and Love
Rightly enthroned in grace and glory.
You are the shepherd of form and final polishing.
Sky-lit serene
This eve doth sweep
My bosom clean.
In the alcove antique
Betwixt seen and unuttered,
Obsolesce the face of longing;
For the driving principle of becoming
The world teareth asunder –
In unmerciful carnage,
In unhinged disowning.
Sky-lit serene
Here toll the bells
Of truthful clawing.
Dark pit and primal donning
Ritualize the ways of knowing,
And the enslavement of the dove’s feet
Doth cry in rightful crowing
For the aberrant undaunted.
Sky-lit serene
This eve doth sweep
My bosom clean.
Sky-lit awoken
The nightmare steed
Wildly runneth –
Its mane is the flag
of crowning,
Its eyes are of
Daemon
growling.
The scent of pine oozed into my lungs like smooth melting sugar as I walked through the recently rain-bathed forest. The crisp green and earthly tones of nature suggested emotive tales of imagination, dating to, or rather pointing to a timeless memory of home where my heart swelled with blissful sweetness and emanated with self-indulging love.
I laid upon the wet pine straw; a bed once dreamt ‘mid the forest clearing. Although the late afternoon sun radiated through the nearby droplets suspending from all around, traces of storm clouds hung above the glade to shelter me with their coolness.
The sound of the dancing river to the north and the whistling mockingbirds cast the trance of a tribal enchantment, serving together as gatekeepers into the subtler realms of being. Little eyes peeked out curiously through the angles adjacent to the forest’s gleam in this in-between, desirous to know who came to drowse amidst their digs.
Blending softly in the breeze, the whispers and hushed words of the forest denizens became swirls of their resolve to welcome me. Their lulling touch reminisced about the weaving threads where wanderers and spirits met for ecstatic frolic in the fold of freedom borne by the young hearts of jolly children.
Dado el toque del abismo resplandeciente
bajo la mirada de la serpiente señorial
de los secretos a vela en carne inerte,
bailan como ninfas de cuello y holgura
con beso supurante y ansias de amalgura
esas lóbregas ligaduras – malhirientes asesinas –
en busca de quien por sombra y cultura huya
de esa voz – esa dulce lírica nocturna –
que alimenta los destellos del alma
y en sus latidos revela la vida pura.
For this second coming, I call you to immerse yourself in this meditation video for you to find yourself and your joy in this life.
As always, it is my wish that with every breath you may find a way to be eased off distress.
Sincerely,
Alyona
It is only the prerogative of an enslaved consciousness to deem the truth apocryphal. Nothing bears meaning except for that which we attribute to it. And with no escape from influence, our consolation rests in erecting a fortress of all which is supportive of our true selves; thus, being armed enough to relentlessly wage war against that which does not serve our purpose, or perish in the crossfire. The outcome of the struggle will be greatly contingent on one’s own desire to be free.
In the tenebrous good-bye of lass gold lights
In the sombre bosom of the afternoon cap
In the crib of night-time greyed mist
Does life blossom through
The heart-beats of Dame Melancholy
In the sultry breath of summer
In the ball of corpses coming
In winter rings of loneness
Does my spirit lift and flutter
Like aethereal butterflies
In a garden of delight
Beknownst to amore sepulchral
Serpentine opus furrows
Through the sensuous heedful romance clad
In undercurrents of Plutonian dance
And in this, my paradise,
The forgot mysteries of the diamond lithe
Trickle down with the cascading sky
The cool zephyr yearns for my skin warm
And I remember beauty
In the arms of the thunderstorm
The pale blue seeps
through the blinds,
beckoning me to dance
and perfume myself
with the tears of dawn.
Oh, how they shine
with the wistfulness of youth
and potential life!
How tender their visage,
and sensuous their cry,
conjuring mirabilia
upon the world entranced!
And thus, I laud
a sight so bright,
honouring grace at heart –
a core of oceanic tides.
My willows follow
the smiling breeze
of early morning’s wet kiss.
My eaves drip
salted sacraments
of hidden beauty.
In the night’s Plutonian rendition
of water warm and subtle might,
the Silver Lady of the Sky
didst away the ghosts
of past thoughts and spider-webs
of human bejewelled lore.
She soaked herself
in through the guise
of noon gold and rainbow cross,
and oozed from every pore
to purify the pools
with the reflection of Soul.
And I knew, and she bespoke,
“Carouse in the essence
of sweet and tender storm,
and leave no cemetery unturnt
that thou may’st draw deeper
into the mysteries openly veiled
without being swayed
by the dozen semblances
which I have bore
froms drops to streams of frailty
which bedrock is the will
to stand strong.
The marvel of an overlooked perception dazzled me. I feel that the Great Harvester tested the lesson on patience on me as I ventured about my day; albeit it is because I can be patient that I can gain insight into my surroundings and myself. My trajectory today led me to a hospital, and for various reasons, I was set to wait; however, my time was far from wasted.
Besides being bombarded by the usual everyday din and the unwavering restlessness of people, I found myself surprised when I realized that I could not summon into mind any day in the past few years and even further back when I found such an amount of elder folk in one place. The hospital’s entrance brimmed with knowledge and experience in withering vessels.
From the elderly, only one pale and short lady on a walker smiled with the same spark as would a child. The rest were torn and beaten, dwelling in severe semblances and pools of judgement
There was a black lady in particular who carried herself as if her strength would forsake her at any moment. She sat in a corner, far away in thought with eyes of glass. Such illuminating sight! This woman, this vast repertoire of art – her pain was of a beauty phenomenal. She glowed with the starriness of an abyssal sky, the many points of light reflecting through the deep waters of life. She dwelt in a beauty of another kind, yet she may never realize the charm.
If by virtue of love
I come to hold thee close,
my darling rose,
let thy petals guide the way
back to the master of hope.
Make the wind
the charioteer of my spleen –
the silken and sweet wish
of an eternal alchemist.
If by virtue of love
we abide within the all,
my precious soul,
the forest lore
indigenous to the core
shall unveil the jewels between worlds.
Whispers and echoing tones
shall join the carnival of glamour
in its seductive call of sandalwood and dragon’s blood.
The Nocturnal Versifier 