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I look up at the evening sky
my eye, caught sight of a lone star
Perhaps, 'tis the pole star.
Was I the only being
at that time to
sight that star?
Or were there many more like me

somewhere doing the same thing
Hopeful, in awe of the celestial bodies
rarely seen
I know Morpheus sits in his abode
on a star.
Midst a field of poppy seeds.
As numerous as the dreams he supplants
into minds of countless dreamers.
He looks down at the sea of souls
lying beneath him.
I think he happened to catch sight of me then
But now he has gone
the field lies still
unchanged
I came away from my window sill
Shut it.
I am in the mood for thought
I cannot sleep.
Suddenly I hear a voice.
My mirror calls out to me.
It is I
I look into me,
myself
Am i real?
Morpheus.

Eagle

Blood spills from the injured talons of a lone eagle
as she flies
in the highest of skies
drip drip
It spills from the heavens above
The mind firm her heart in pain
She circles once, twice,
falling in an unending spiral
Numb go her talons
Those claws, her only survival
Far below, somewhere in the Prairie plain
A child sights a dwindling spec in the sky
He stops to look, his gaze meeting the blinding sun
thud! There a few feet ahead
The dying eagle lies strewn
 it's body goes limp.
The boy heaves a sigh
All things must die.

lovers and pens

Lost in a world of endless possibility
there is desire burning to enter the soul
To burn it, reduce it, consume it
with flames of omnipotent lust
The ashes of our love shall remain
on those endless plains of this world's
improbable wonders
on the tops of craggy hills and glistening surfaces
of milky streams that flow constantly
with a swiftness that mimics the flow
 of our lives together
We are one in body and in mind
when we wield the pen
and so unleash our strength
naked to the eyes of the world we inhabit
together we fuse
through our distant thoughts
that resurface now and then
as if to perch for a while
on the tree tops of our minds.

Island of dreams

The island
My being feels light as ever.
Under the tree like canopy
in the island of greens.
The wind whispers it seems
where two worlds collide
And magic is
commonplace.
This space
beneath the sun becomes
the island of dreams
Where laughter permeates
the air perpetually
And the sighs of lovers
Escape occasionally
The world at peace
Time stands still
A squirrel
Or two scurrying around
the tree of wisdom
We hear it speaks sound
advise and clarity
Come upon one's soul
Cleansing of mind and the body whole
Takes place in this space
We've come to call our own.
The island is but a seed sown
in life's tapestry
And with desire this seed can be grown.

Dancer

There she flies swiftly
Her being lost
An embodiment of lightness.
She moves with the grace of a Goddess
Hair swept up a few stray strands that fall down loosely
O’er her face aglow with sensuality
She moves
With an unfamiliar gentleness
Her small chest heaving
She is softly breathing
Soundlessly with an
Accompanied stillness
She is there to please.

Thoughts avant sleep

Sweet slumber comes upon thine midnight's eye
Thou art lost to realms unknown, unspoken.
The other world so different from your own...still the same.
How will your self awake in the morrow?
How will thee know that the eye can stay shut if it so pleases.
The world will as always, be untouched.
Lost in your slumber,
you choose to remain.
Asleep in a waking world,
Away from the pain.

Priorities

They are floating as do the water lilies 

on the surfaces of translucent lakes

Pick them up

one by one.

Arrange them,

Don't jumble them up.

Do as you please

(work on them)

Finish them,

But most importantly,

Stick to them.