Speaking softly

I revisit those conversations

As I hide from the company of friends

I rewrite each word in my head

And tug the emphasis to my liking

This talk is now so perfect

Yet so fragile in its precision

My retrospective creativity knits

Until I am covered in my own creation

Then I smile at my folly

Here I am, hiding from men

Only to talk to them silently


On the hills again

My farewell may be untimely,

But selfish it is not

I gave my all and my very being

Learning to walk these meandering paths

So long have I walked along the edge,

The valley’s heart is now daunting

I found my instruction in the dark

It’s the light that quickens my demons

Bare to the sun have I been too long,

The drizzle falls like unforgiving needles

This cold has embraced me for years,

Warmth is my signal for parting

Hold me now, one last time

The valley is yours, the chasm mine

Dwarf Dreams

I stood in the valley and screamed

My utterance like a meteor,

Traveling to and fro betwixt the mountains

The gods of echo making sport of it

The mountains repeat my words,

As I do of my ancestors

The valley is my life

The echo an incarnation of equality

For there is but very little

That hasn’t been spoken before

We yearn to stand tall and stand out

While surrounded by colossal mountains

Friend within

For long have I borne this darkness

So deep has it seeped into my being

That I am today, but a small flickering light

In the crowd I am invisible

For we all shine just so much

Moments of brightness are conflicting

I endeavour to find mirth, but struggle

For this pitch dark is my silent companion,

The nurse of my sorrows,

The escape from itself

It is the brightest of moments,

Those with countless lights

Where I die a little

Silence (Part II)

The unsaid opens doors for myriad guests

Uninvited, they storm into your soul

So loud is their silent conversation,

So sharp their horrid words

Oh but who are these guests?

Lament, regret, pain and melancholy

They feast joyfully on your sanity

Fattened on words never spoken

Turbulent silence

Unsaid words are the loudest

There is no hiding from their noise

For one cannot hide from oneself

The supreme refuge is in one’s own heart

Why seek escape from the one true shelter?

Words left unsaid return like the wind

They reek of regret and salty rain

In the happiest of hours they knock,

We drown the knock in our laughter

Only to surrender and trade tears,

Those of merry laughter,

Making way for those borne by pain


I furnished this house lavishly

Regrets in this room

Fears in that

The past was kind to me

She gave me regrets to furnish my home

The future has supplied many fears

I stare suspiciously at the present

For she has nothing to give

Hands of counsel

Advice packaged in idealism is deceit,

Strive not to be rid of all regrets

But endeavor instead to be one with time

Occasionally the clock doth falter

A hiccup in time

We don’t glance ceaselessly at the hands,

Thus the disruptions escape our engrossed eyes

The clock we created is a picture of perfection

So effortlessly it marches on

An eternal part of the ambience

Oh but we are artists

Imperfections set us apart from clocks

They make us one with Time

Walk through mortality

These gravestones are somber but enticing

Sundry thoughts they inspire,

Complex despite their simple text

One ponders the nature of the silence

Or dwells on the stories underneath

Years of pain, joy, laughter and tears

They brightened some people’s stars

Today I walk on them impassively

Some stones have quotes

Others mere details

These rocks with dates and aphorisms,

Bear they songs of mortality

Perhaps like our mortal memories

Where these lines reside for a moment

Before we return to the chaos