Rise and shine, yet hold
in ever waking time. Chthonic cults
dwell in the caves that rise and fall
in oceans' needs and wants. A mood
that's felt as heaviness. A movement
toward the emptiness. Filling full
the other side of every great desire.
Beware the great demands
that tax the psyche
with commands of unknown source. Hades plays
within the underworld. Flowing through
the River Stix by means of his imaginary bride.
Across the way, another play expands into
the fearful view of man and the unknown.
Death, a word too seldom mused upon.
While nightmares scream
into another new millennium. Waking
with a start, and then a shiver as awareness
becomes bold. The dreams can seem
more real than life in form. Ideas born,
but all too oft' discarded as the morning
light attacks the eyes of sleep. But still,
the deeper feelings set the mood
of all that happens in the day.
The soil is black. The
Distinctions set in stone that leave
the distance of projection as the means.
Earth itself cannot appeal the pain
of its endurance. From total form,
the images were shrunk methodically
to fit into the need of mankind's minds.
So few, the wise, who choose to find
another way to see it all in one.
Special recollections that
of a happiness that left us all too soon.
The burgeoning of that, the autumn moon.
Sacredly, the harvest was drawn in.
From the netherworld, where feelings
must begin. Magic spun of mystery.
Expanding the dry histories of man.
Archetypes living at the depth of source.
Where emotions are the course of all
Imposing heights become
the fearful depths.
As minds release the hold of gross control
and fly away within a clear, cool wind.
For all the lost must find themselves again.
Lonely moments beckoning in reckoning
of locks and safety latches. Hiding from
the touch of life itself. Delving ever deeper
while emerging from the dark of yet another
spun cocoon. The soul must find a way
to fly again.
Suspended once, within
a kiss, two lives
in unity. Until the outer world forced
its changes in between the two of them.
Society is vague, yet too explicit.
Cultures come to kill the very will
to love in life. Elite, the moneyed many
sleep as much as possible. But there
within their dreams, the memories
For once upon a time, there
was a love.
Heaven moved into the earth as up above
reflected down below. Then joy became
the base of every meaning. A feel that
lives beneath and yet beyond mere happiness.
The moon was growing full yet once again.
Cycles that repeat forevermore.
And there, upon that starlit shore,
two lovers found the one again.
Just when the world was falling in,
around another great chaotic blend
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .