The sun kisses the earth to bed.

Fireflies dance to a silent song

and the wind, their swift lover,

caresses the earth.

An earthly possession

of expired, sun burnt leaves

persuades Lazarus to live once again.

 

Feet skim the crunching surface

as arms and ear drums balance the center

of existence. The sound of the skin taut barrel swirls into a resounding hymn.

Sweet satin jewels are bared and picked,

ready to be consumed by thirsting

throats. A delicate five pointed

star guides the weary traveler.

 

The Goddess, with her mysterious

smirk, dances in the reflection

of the pearly moonlight. Rushing

winds kiss her milky, cracked

feet. The old Sun God smoothly flows

over with his dark impressions,

returning to the soft embrace

of the weathering Goddess. Night

and day waltzing in a circle,

staring at an aged mirror.

 

The melancholy pattern

disturbs the dust of the past year,

reaping the dud seeds, whisking

them away with its merry tune.

The song sorrowfully ends

with a deep and ancient bow.

 

The Sun God turns away, taking

in one last longing look of her

wiry, cascading hair. The Goddess

silently sighs, a sleeping sorrow

glinting in her star-lit eyes,

yet does not move. An ivory

stone still within a heavy storm.

 

 

 

 

The dream withers and decays,

yet it is fondly remembered.

A blank, hardened stare takes its place.

An old crone cries.