The Way

They called her, called her in, called her loudly.
Working together, they saw it unfolding, they began talking.
She knew with every step down the road of noise, her calling sitting proudly.
At the end of the street, turning left instead of right, this is the correct way walking.

Her way isn’t your way. Her heart and her soul understand deeply.
They are screaming at her in soundless blaze, she is aware, she can hear.
They watch her and tell her with a force she cannot escape, still climbing…steeply.
Do not dive, do not search, do not try, the why is not the way, it is becoming clearer.

This way, not your way or their way, not wrong but higher and wiser.
Disengage and listen to no one else but the calling and the soul.
Do you hear that? I think she’s coming, she looked up, out, in, she is the riser.
Let’s gather here and welcome her, our wings can shelter her, she can be our foal.

Let’s clap, let’s bring her closer, let’s show her the way.
She always looks out, she always finds me, she knows I am here for her.
They will never keep me away from what I am supposed to show her, and to say.
The cool and murky glow where I live, under a fortress, below the boulders, she sees through the blur.

They knew how to get there, inside her mind.
Like dissection of a crime with a solved confidence riding in her heart.
I move, I stand still, I glide, I explode, I fall down, I lift up, I will hope to bind.
She soaks the energy from me, I put it there for her, she is further, beyond, outside, inside, creating the art.

She will take her craft much further, I see it blooming and fostering and healing.
Nurture she does in all aura she reveals.
I see her, hold her, and let her words come through the ceiling.
Surrender and kneel together, star gazing we send her to every field.

My heat shines on her body, she absorbs the penetration without flinch or fear.
The guidepost so clear and strong, she listened to our prayers and galloped with trust.
She looks at me as the floating cloud hides my face, she is dear.
With a smile that creates life, a heart that beats too strong, an expression that addicts crave, she lights up the forest, her centuries old soul turning her enemies to dust.

Write the Night

I like to write in the night,
When there is no more light.
The quiet zombies, their grip not so tight.
I wonder if I screamed, would I cause a fright?

Just because it is past one o’clock,
Means nothing to a writer who just can’t stop.
Maybe I’ll meet Santa when he makes his drop.
How funny would that be, I’d ask him to hang out, “let’s talk.”

Alas it is spring, so no Santa sightings for me.
I don’t even have a chimney, a house, or cookies or milk, hmm let’s see.
I know, if I saw Santa, if he came to me, I’d write him a story about the sea.
I’d show him how I can make words turn into aromatic delicious tea.  

I want to right this day, write this night away.
Let’s think up more ways, you know that I know, how to really play.
The water was warm and comforting and now here I stay.
Locked in this position not quite yet ready, to end the slay.

I do not fear the clock ticking further and further to dawn.
The pleasure I receive my fingers moving like this, impossible to yawn.
What’s that sound? I hear footsteps outside of a delicate, soft fawn.
I’m in the forest of my mind, deep in the woods, definitely not on someone’s front lawn.

The pockets and squares of yellow in the sky.
It’s hard to keep my focus on just one thing, I’m not going to lie.
Writing in the night carries secrets you cannot find, even with eye spy.
The tunes keeping me grounded, I sort of feel like I could fly.

Did you know that there is a message waiting for you?
It’s hanging, waiting, holding, watching, its colour is blue.
You don’t believe me? Watch what happens in a day or two.
I won’t spoil the surprise, the letters will spell themselves in a strange skew.

Trust it. I’m writing in the night this poem because it is what I do.
Just for you.
And by you, I mean me too.
How beautiful and broken the world we live. Let us sing and sleep and stay true.    

When the Clocks Stop

The day had rain and so did the night.
Cool sparkles on tall towers flashing and few;
I held out my tongue to taste, the sound of you.

You whispered and then screamed.
Confused were many but some so sure;
The temperature changing creating a blur.

Silence please, momentary stillness you gave.
A tear in the fabric my clothes are worn and holed;
The dampness outside and now in, leaves me quite cold.

Receiving and receiving, eloquent angels of mine.
Your language subtle, clear, persistent and radical;
My layer is shed now what’s left, a new botanical.

Hanging and sitting tick, tick, tick.
Years of noise a tapestry turned into a portal;
Seek what is beyond the hands of the immortal.

The breeze is with me I feel your message on my skin.
A realignment, unaltered contemplation in the quiet;
I am walking to mend your broken stagnation. What a riot.

Stopping, pausing, holding, nothing without nothing.
Emerging in the night what was not had in the day;
I graciously hold your screams and whispers, never alone I stay.

There is time, here and there we end but begin again.
I am waiting for you and for you too, can you come back?
I promise to give you a most wonderful snack.

Breathless just so you know, I am emptying the overflow.
Time and time and time again, wiser am I to let go;
Synchronicity you have me, guided, decoded, and now I know.

Thank you to all of you, I see you.
Vibrations higher and higher…clean.
Time is back in motion – going toward I am not green.