Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:
“Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.”
Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, “What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
“I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!”
Note: This poem is in the public domain and can be found here. William Blake (1757-1827) was an English poet, painter, mystic, and printmaker. He was largely unrecognized during his life, but Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of poetry and art in the Romantic era.
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I could never touch the sky
Continue reading “Energy Flows (a poem)” →
Or lasso down the moon
The stars are far too high
But with them I commune
I can’t reach with my hands
And pull them down to me
So, I swallow astral energy
Spit it out into the sea
I. A Dark Field
There is a field shrouded in darkness. You’ve been there before, though you only vaguely remember it. Maybe you saw it in a dream, but maybe, you were there in waking hours, but it’s buried deep inside your mind.
The field is like this: Cold, completely dark; the only sound is a groaning wind. There’s no moon in the sky, nor can you see where the sky and horizon meet because it’s as if you were blind. Yet, a fire burns far off in the distance, and you smell sulfur. The wind kicks ashes in your frost-bitten face.
You’ve been here before, you know it.
Continue reading “Garden of Night (a prose poem)” →
Watch time move in a circle
Our concept is broken
Caught in linear perceptions
We believe death is deception
But when the lightning flashes
Continue reading “Vibrant-Colored Ashes (a poem)” →
Our mere mortality crashes
Into storm clouds and burns
Into vibrant-colored ashes
Here’s a piece of fantasy flash fiction about a young boy, a shaman, and destiny. It’s about 740 words and has an estimated reading time of 3 minutes. Let me know what you think!
Continue reading “The Life of a Shaman (flash fiction)” →
Where does the eternal lie?
Some things can’t be seen with the eyes,
Like infinite doom-loops in my mind
And the everlasting disguise of
Angels and demons
The deity is malicious; he crushes me
Continue reading “Where Does the Eternal Lie? (a poem)” →
Between endless surging waves
On undying shores of violence;
Where does the eternal lie?
The radiant room inside your mind – lit with bright pinks, purples, and blues. Deep inside the dream world, we’ve accessed your subconscious. Down the narrow halls, leading to forbidden desires. What lies beyond the door?
Beyond the bright door
Continue reading “Door to the Subconscious (a haibun)” →
Lies memories that make you
And also break you
The angel visits me.
Shocking sound, vast colors, she’s suffused in light. A messenger, her words deeply stirring. Her face purest yellow, shining,
smiling, brings ease, a luminosity
She says everything
Continue reading “A Visit from the Angel (a poem)” →
Will be all right,
All’s well, all shall be well,
All manner of things
Shall forever be well,
Like Julian said
This is a picture I took from Wikimedia Commons of a statue of Julian of Norwich, an English anchoress from medieval times who is regarded as an important Christian mystic. Julian (1343-after 1416) wrote Revelations of Divine Love after seeing visions (or “shewings“) of the Passion of Christ. She was on her deathbed at the time of the visions, but she recovered and wrote about the visions sometime later.
Continue reading “A Saint for Our Times (graphic art)” →