Poetry

My love is the blade of an arrow,
with an edge honed thin and fine
so that all who’d deceive it
shall never receive it
except as a thin red line

through the heart, and piercing the marrow
of the hopes they thought disguised
and I’ll never regret it
or really forget that
in judgement true love lies

And I’ll sing with the voice of a martyred man
of the wrongs made in my mind;
bitter wrath I’ll drink
and not even think
one could be more true than I

for the edge of my blade is narrow
and it bites on either side
and for all that I hold it,
I cannot control it
till every last insult’s defined.

I am
no longer afraid
no more a ghost than
I am
a dream, or angel
fallen from morning's light
I am
enough, I hold my own
and have and be all that
I am
in my second dawn
only just finding out who
I am

Fire the way, fire the light
fire that keeps me true through the night
Fire within, fire without
fire that strengthens and takes away doubt
Fire in word, fire in deed
fire that burns until you are free
Fire in nature, fire in name
fire that changes and leaves you aflame

You say you've dropped me cold
and well, it even might be true
but if that's all you've got to say
I won't waste tears on you

You see, my love, you're less than half
of what you've claimed to be
and now I know that second best
just will not do for me

So run along and don't you dare
to tell me it's my loss
for lessons learned are more than worth
the pain my mistakes cost

Just wait my darling, you will see --
the one who lost here wasn't me.

Monsters

There you sit, curled on your prayers,
and will not see the dark
you fear the night, and well you should
its strength could crush your heart

For in those shadows lie
the fearful truths you will not see
and wait for you to tire
and forget to disbelieve

Now gather close your lights and faith
and pray that dawn's not far
that superstitious myth is all
that night-time monsters are

Say the words, believe them true.
With luck, you might convince us too.

Vision I

Just one thing I ask you
grant me vision in my dreams
till the world turns in around me
till it shakes and bends and screams
Now, while I'm still young and golden
tear my sense out by the seams

So that when I'm old and tarnished,
gilding flaked from crusted lips,
I will love you still and long
to kiss your eyes with arrow-tips
I'll return what you gave me,
and hold you, till your heartbeat slips.

Vision II

When I was young and golden
and my skin was smooth as steel
and in me dwelt a shade I felt
but tried not to reveal

With love I raised those shadows
made them deeper than the sea
till fancies and realities
ran side by side in me

And now I'm old and tarnished
and my lips crack wide with rust
but the things I've made have not decayed
though I am barely dust

So here I wait and whisper
to the things I groomed to grow
and laugh and sigh for they'll not die
though I must soon let go

The Will, the Way

Take a chance, and look within
the burning sun
the desert wind
the sand, the stone, the clay
the wit, the will, the way.

Strike a path through burning days
ties that shift
eyes that glaze
and darkness if I stray,
if will gets worn away.

Bodies split along the line
faith lies lost
strength survives
and no more left to say.
Now will must find a way.

What if I say ...?

What if I say this all can wait?
What if this flesh is just a gate,
myself unseen to thee?

What if I cast all shackles off?
What if one self is world enough
and easier to be?

What if I savour lonsesome days?
What if my grace needs no-one's praise
and I draw strength from me?

Could you still walk, thus undefined,
complete and strong, uncompromised,
and unbeheld to need?