The Frail Zodiac

and knowing this I bless you. with black dust and whispers. I stroke your eyes with feathers and lap your neck in oils. desirous and holy. I part your lips and invoke love. with wild honey and lavender petals. we bathe in the ripples of spring. grainy light shed by rainclouds cocoons this temple. affixed rubies starve the floor. your hair belongs in these shadows. interweaving with ribbons of silk from shawls spread out. we share a cup of elderflower tea. beneath us the sounds of music shake the floor. tempestuous drones replace our need for speech. we sit in silence and enter the dream worlds.

lost in each other. tasting the dew on sikkhimese branches. flooding our mouths in the water of rivers. falling into the shimmering lights of the desert. sleeping beneath mists and tea plantations. entwined in love.

the brutal dawn collides headlong into our visions. the dust of another nights dream is shed.

I awaken in the darkrooms of my own silence.

A Wingful of Eyes

these are the rituals we adhere to. the scars of hope. crushed deep into palms outstretched in worship. broken under crucifixes. torn beneath minarets. the hymns glide, the mantras speak, the prayers dissolve into unseen vapour. there are journeys unanswered. there are mountains moved by whispers. there are whispers moved by thoughts. each thought kept fragile in its birth. streams replace the stuttering calm. words bring us the names of the divine. wax drippings foretell the shadow dwellings. incense coaxes the heady air to move. light flaws the stained glass. gold reflects the sun in poverty. and in each corner speaks a murmur. and each pew speaks a mourning. and each balcony a blessing. and each entrance a hope. and each antechamber a revelation. and each doorway a judgment. and each brick a tale. and each faceless statue a death. and each minute that passes becomes but a trickle of damp smoke curling at the feet of a stone messiah.

Intangible Thought

In and about me light shatters and falls in crystals. reflections of the night and the faceless apparitions of tomorrow. the ether steals in and removes colours, dawn hangs heavy and replenishes the dreams of night. all around me are the figures and forms of imagination. all around me are the dark routines that conjure sleep.

Mercury of the Sages

The stages of man. LIGHT.LOVE.DEATH.FEAR entwine beneath the constellations. fixed points are drafted under scrutinous eyes. shifting weight from foot to foot while the inks are unlocked. a crows feather begins to darken the great book, colouring night in deep strokes. a violent sky breathes outside. locked behind these windows we stand muttering under lamps and charting the future. full lamps and silver handles. parchments break out and create tales. blues are added. yellow. gold. red. symbols. alchemy. an apocalypse of satin. heavy sashes float delicately above the floorboards. skies painted in brilliance.

the winds throw tantrums... belly ache whispers and forgotten melodies. the slow chime of the seasons preparing their entrance and exit. awash with colours and temperatures. crystal viewing glasses. aquamarine stones. fiery amber. bronzed artifacts.

the slow moving feet of the disciples, clad with the wings of ravens, eyes aloft gazing at impossible heights, murmuring to the temple roofs where prophets and saints share the company of silence. their eyes measuring distance.

this stream begins and ends where my eyes meet.. i can follow it in the slow ripples and reflections. it flows beyond to the forests.

the clouds of ash drifting upwards like a million daggers drawn. caves endless in their pursuits. the whirling wind spins and spins like dervishes, entranced in its own centre.

we enter the chord theater... where the temple bells sway and guitars strum from lofty crystal rooms bathed in light unseeable... strings bend to lower cases while tambourines and percussion hasten the long fires of old to unleash their modest kiss.... women in black robes conjure voices... the light receeds leaving a bare room bathed in gold shimmers.... a throne room.... a vessel for god... a waiting room for ghosts.. where lost melodies swirl in the thick sun and dissipate into pure light. decimated bones shatter into ivory blushes as the curtain of day draws.

the swirling bells... confusion.... floating jewels and acrobats.... juniper skies.... hissing.... chants...... bellowing flames.... deepening spaces.... the inevitable loss.. scatter the veil... the light may come full and illuminating down on us in our sackcloth and ashes.. in our jeers and our escape.. in our tempers and our nakedness. in our seduction and our emptiness.. let the mighty light... the emerald voice... let it bear down on us with such might that we find nothing to support ourselves with and begin the dance of circles.... intoxicated by love..... falling slowly into the unchartered tides.

The Chamber of Silence

while the ground implodes around us, let the wind carry our weary hearts and deliver them honest and broken into the suns glory. and there we shall stand, vulnerable to all of heavens reaches, drenched in the halo's of tomorrow.

le rêve qui s'évanouit

if i could paint this landscape in braille, so that you and i could move across it with fingers, eyes shut, and softly bring to life the willows, the brooks, the dew. If we could penetrate the veil that divides us, the faultless skins of darkness trapped in our minds, where dizziness and laughter turn and spin to the endless void. our fingers could meet on a mountain, for a moment. while dawn sings her dirges bent over the ashes of yesterday.

The Past Is Now Darkened

as we weave baskets from ravens feathers
beside the slow burning light of our fire
smoke interweaves with the high branches
we stand together before this flame
the glow intensifies like impending glory
wings and bones displayed against the bruised sky
silk webs stun the skyline in opaque splinters
the dry river begins to draw water and move

the bending tunes of a sitar expels whatever firmament is left
high reaching clouds blotch the sky in silence
harps and flutes pan out from ear to ear
a sequestered masterpiece shining note for note
a lapse in time for the mighty bells to dull, fought for by bare backs and dust
string songs flow from the beginnings of the river

this dance continues upwards in vertical spirals
colours un-knowlng shed their shadows beneath
our images are cloaked in light
pure unending un-tampered light
making dreams become the sight of the awakened
choruses of one voice begin to move the earth
as the oceans part and the trees begin to guard the way.

smoke pillars descend
there is an audible hum
while the ocean carries away the particles of dust
webs of colour fall from above
like fractured mosaics
mirrored by the sea and broken by the sky
a dark breeze passes.... the hands of nature still
the echoes of bird song cannot replace this silence
for once we are enraptured, we are secluded
and there is no depth this darkness cannot reach.