Chinese Lanterns

Souls ascending
In meandering passage
Towards a sparkling nowhere;
Here and there.
Oh, to drift without a care,
Firefly moments
Extended through space,
Look down
Upon the jigsaw of life
And finally realise
What fits.
Then float away
In peace.

All is Lost

 Deep, those wells
 Of souls, they say.
 But there is hope,
 Isn’t there?
 An angel bathes where
 Waters, still,
 Light shimmering
 Where there is no light.
 I fear consumption;
 Step back and breathe,
 But it is too late;
 I am too late.
 What was sheen
 And glass
 And conducive
 Now tempest turning,
 Spinning, churning.
 There is no return to such realms,
 As diluted pupils widen,
 And suck all into darkness.
 I am lost;
 She is lost.
 All is lost.


IT bleeds

But there should be no blood from root and bark?

IT hurts

I hear the cries of strangled vines and whipping leaves

IT strives

For something, for anything, the comforts of another lost soul

IT rages

In an agony of discontent and bleeding berries


For I no not what else to call this thing of barked skin and thorned protuberances


Has me!

Touching the Tip of Heaven

 He touched the tip of heaven
 Silver lined, and sparkling,
 As she, in turn, his angel
 Reached down, questing.
 One all too human,
 The other all too not,
 Yet somewhere
 Where the lines between
 Bliss and belonging entwined
 They touched.
 It was momentary
 A fraction of a heartbeat
 But for they it would last an eternity,
 They should seek each other
 Throughout it.

 (Image, title and inspiration Michelle Marie)