When it means something

What is there in a touch?
What is there in a kiss?
A falsehood, or accident?
What if that was not with you,
That the promise made
Shattered into a million pieces.
That the promise of respect,
Of the mind, body and soul,
Is shattered like glass.
When two people touch in a way
That is beyond the physical existence.
Like an angel's wings clipped
Falling with no safety net,
The end is painful.
Rochester once said about the string snapping,
What if it does through a fault of jealousy in heat.
That the touch means something,
That the kiss means something,
To the one done against,
That the purity in a promise
Is just like clipping an Angel's wings.

For the faithless

You have to be dark
To know dark.
You have to travel the depths of despair
To know the sorrow of mourning.
They say death opens a new chapter,
For the atheist, they laugh!
They mock and say disparities of faith.
But mourn those with little belief,
For they are the ones who never know
The truth of despair
Of the next chapter waiting for those who believe.
Pray for the faithless,
They need the helping hand,
For there is sorrow in mourning,
For those who believe know the soul of the being travels far.
For the atheist, it becomes dust.
Nothing anymore,
No next thing, no new chapter.

Music in the dark

In the silence of the dark,
Three chords are played,
In a beat of four.
Wanting to look for a light for the candle,
There is hesitancy,
As the body moves to each beat of the chord.
Swaying in time,
Not wanting anymore to see,
But to feel the music through the body,
The way it makes you move,
No words said at all,
Just music in the darkness.
To light the room would spoil the magic,
Of being alone with the music in the dark.

Inspired by Jeff Buckley's Halleluiah 

Lost in the desert

The desert is a vast and isolated place,
Yet Nomads wander it high and low,
So how is it we would get lost and they would not?
The reason is they know the terrain,
They know themselves and each other.
Others are the wanderer,
Seeking water and shelter
In blistering heat.
Drenched with sweat,
Tired with thirst, collapsing on the sand.
Lost and desperate to wander to safety,
But restless legs won't move,
But the mind aches with pain.

Infinite

Day and night,
Light and shade,
From the sun to the moon,
From clouds flying,
To the burning bright stars,
There is always wonder.
They always say deep as the ocean,
But that has an end,
Something others try to find and seek,
For they are as shallow as the watery beach.
Those looking for the depths of the ocean,
Look in the wrong place.
For the depths they try and touch are unreachable.
For the deepest souls are the universe,
Bright yet dark.
Hiding but seen.
They are as rooted as an oak tree,
Old and beautiful.
Always born in the wrong year,
Old and young.
But the deepest soul disintegrates over time.
As the burning star explodes,
The souls last breath is drawn.

Age is just a number

What is age?
A number or a mental state of being?
Does it matter if it three years or 39?
What if there is more to the number,
But the state of mind,
With intelligence, culture, life experience.
You can believe when people say,
I am born in the wrong era and so is the other.
That two people who are to the world wrong,
Are just right for each other in their own bubble,
That two hearts, minds and souls kindred
Are just born decades apart.
But does it matter anymore?
Once upon a time it happened all the time,
So why is it different now?
What is a number compared to two people with pure love.

Till death do us never part

Shakespeare understood death,
His plays had action and consequence.
Life, love and death,
A cycle repeated throughout each culture.
Shakespeare knew something
With Romeo and Juliet,
That death with one,
Caused great sorrow for the other.
That with the pain of loss,
Comes a death to Romeo.
For two star crossed lovers,
Who couldn't be together,
Knew the moments would not last.
That the night they spent together,
Would be their first and last,
But still it was an everlasting love.
The vows till death do us part
Never really exist.
For the memory remains for the one who lives.

True beauty

Why is the pearl hidden in the clam?
Why something so ugly hides something beautiful?
That is the lesson of life,
That not everything is always as it seems.
That judging a cover of a book,
Without reading the pages,
Shows the predicament of people.
That in a moment we see one thing,
Without seeing the inside.
Beauty is always in the eye of the beholder,
But what if you are blind,
But see so much more.
What is the dark showers more then in light,
Then the light hides the true darkness of others.
When true beauty is hidden,
But also placed in plain sight.
That people walk paths in dark forests,
Using other senses to really see clearly.
The peal in the clam when revealed is admired by many,
But who knew which clam to pick,
The one who closed their eyes and clasped their hands in the dark.
True beauty is seeing without sight.

Passionate Summer

Such fruity delights,
On a hot passionate night.
That Summer heat
Makes it so sticky and sweet.
That when the heavens open,
Rain bouncing on the ground,
Sheets are drenched, not just from the waterfall deluge,
But the seasonal joys of a night so young.

Aphrodite

Cool me down with water alone, means nothing.
Pour champagne over every curve,
For this one has expensive tastes.
Feed me chocolates, but not caviar.
Send me roses of the red kind,
But a purple flower will also do.

As this is the Aphrodite,
A Greek goddess of beauty and fertility,
A woman of Cyprus pure in nature,
But ferocious when challenged,
It takes a God to handle that apple of Greek tongue,
Widely desired but highly misunderstood.