Dawn Light, Dawn Bright

dawn_by_freelancah

Glorious daybreak,

And the city lay shining in the distance,

Further inland,

Miles from these golden shores,

Draped in the finery of dawn’s light –

Blindingly, beseechingly bright.

 

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Sacrilege

icarus

 

The trees

Look like the sea of my dreams,

Today.

 

They are the rough waters

Into which I have fallen,

And these November currents

Are as brutal as they come.

 

They are fragments

Of a different life,

The one I’d thought I’d live,

The one that came and went

As swiftly as Lucifer did,

His chains swinging, singing as they fell,

And Him –

Weeping, not for himself,

But for mankind.

 

They are the fault lines

Upon which my city is built,

The fractalized wooden sentinels

That stand in lieu of worshippers

Within the House of the Savior

After it’s abandonment

Some time long and long ago.

eschatology: a poem

beam-me-up-goddy

 

(Eschatology: Noun. The theological study of the fate of the world.)

 

I am the rain that falls,
Redemptive;

I am the wind
That wearies the wanderer.

I am the silence
That befalls all sound.

Kingdom Come: Young Gods

Hello, all! I made an AMV based on Kingdom Come, my latest space opera. Join Wren (Lady Earth) and Dareh (King Jupiter) as they peruse the wing of the Jovian Royal Galleries dedicated to ‘lost’ Earth art.

Kingdom Come will be a trilogy featuring King Jupiter, his Queen – the Lady Earth – and his Prince Consort, Zephyr Zaia of Earth, as well as his former lover, Lord Mars (Resheph), as they fight to save the Outer Worlds from a civil war that threatens to spill into the neutral territory of Earth. The fight for Earth will see ancient alliances brought to the breaking point and the Lord Planets will find themselves racing against Time itself to save their people and their brethren. Will the fighting end with the Nine Worlds in flames, or can King Jupiter rally his forces before all is lost?

 

crystalline

wolf-wolves-snow-wolf-landscape-89773

 

I can see in you

That this night brings about the sweetest of sorrows,

The clouds of our breath

Forming halos ‘round our lips;

They are there one moment,

And gone the next,

This fleeting thing we call peace;

It, too, is there, then gone;

It, too, flares and fades,

Crystals forming, faltering;

Falling.

Youth

dandelion-bess

 

I can think of no better metaphor

Than the glorifying sun

Yielding to the inkwell of the night

At the end of everything;

Time – such a cruel mistress –

Finally running out,

The sand in the hourglass

Surrendering the last of itself

At the journey’s end;

And, at long last, it was over.

The Boulevard

160421_snder_boulevard_designet_af_sla_foto_sla__magnus_klitten_beskret

I’d walk for miles just to get back there,

Back to the fullness of my youth,

Back to the sweetness of summer,

The petrol fumes pungent in the August air,

Cherry ice cream on my lips,

The Boulevard,

Where I went to watch life,

As it happened without me,

While I stood on the median

In the midst of the swirling gas stains on the asphalt

And the blaring of horns,

And me,
Watching, waiting, silent, still,

Seeing the Boulevard not as she was,

But as she wanted to be –

A dusty road that led only unto itself,

Upon which the sun was always setting.