THE MEMORIAL CANDLE

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As I sit before your memorial candle

I try to open the door handle

allowing the entrance to your instruction

so I may be initiated by induction

 

 

I stare into your remembrance flame

seeking a luster that has no name

but remains the power of the common man

as humbly graceful as a geisha’s fan

 

 

who shyly walks upon the stage

a coquet caught in a cage

as she seeks a shaft of light

in the monolith of her fight

 

 

I glimpse your knowledge in record’s reams

by starlight’s twinkling peaceful beams

inscriptions engraved on pillars of salt

locked inside my memory’s vault

 

 

in a chamber made with bars of steel

bent by a superman playing reel to reel

upon the cinema of my life’s dramatics

in a kaleidoscope runs my landscape’s schematics

 

 

your eternal radiance is drawn on an obelisk

by the glow of a full moon’s disc

an ancient spaceship comes to refuel

in the middle of your life’s harshest duel

 

 

remembrances of joyful pasts I seek

through an earthly oblivion where you speak

your utterance I hear down through the years

as your specter gradually appears.

 

 

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THE CAVE

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In this little, protected cave I hold

in this brambled vale I live

within my spirit’s hidden fold

I spin the woolen gifts I give

 

 

of fairy gowns in threads of green

woven as my royal robe

hung on thicket’s emerald sheen

from endless spans to view the globe

 

 

upon which my earth is formed from dust

a ravine where grows Autumn’s decay

risen from my soul mate’s trust

a creature made of sculpted clay

 

 

with comely nose and fingers slim

to play the notes of higher truth

such a splendor from God’s whim

still small in age a promising youth

 

 

he breathes the flute—pied pipers sound

so that the air fills with trumpets

called to serve the higher ground

where maids are asked to serve the crumpets

 

 

at the tea where men pray and sit

in my cavern’s hollow quiet

while souls inscribe mankind’s writ

a formula shapes for my angel’s diet

 

 

as seasons die in a blaze of rust

with yellow golds tumbled to floors

through once verdant forests dark winds gust

as I glide silently through my wintry tunnel’s doors.

 

 

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THE BRIM

 

 

The edge of the world’s rim

is God’s wide hat brim

worn to be his sun shade

while he sips a cool lemonade

 

 

a parasol covers his canyon

like the umbrella leaves of the tree Banyan

on the verge of speaking with lips

parched cracked earth with many rips

 

 

at the volcano’s brink sputtering

lava pours out like blood uttering

speaking with a geyser’s tongue

spurting into the air with songs sung

 

 

at the border of his arid desert

the cactus provides an alarm alert

medicine ground with mortar and pestle

into his flesh the thorns nestle

 

 

minerals lie at the center of his sphere

a temporal climb up a ladder to clear

to reach for the top of his arms extended

brings us to the boundary of the landscape ended.

 

 

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SPRING SUNRISE

 

 

The sun rises over the Island

pine tree groves standing tall

 sentinels of a solemn ceremonial call

they watch the artist paint with his hand

 

 

he brushes the sand with gold

sky is turned to red orange flames

the sun ascends over earth’s frames

we observe the rituals of old

 

 

the evergreen is guided by the morning star

her chariot climbs into the sky

above the geese return with springs glad cry

over the river appears the amber from afar

 

 

when ancient trees were new

their sap flowed through like blood

before the original flood

 as the solar system grew

 

 

now the brilliant yellow spark

ignites the opening season

trees inaugurate the inception of reason

fireworks commence the universe so stark.

 

 

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