In feeling the hard, rough terrain,
have I felt secure,
in traveling, those paths
which wound around paths,
of paths worth knowing.
But the unknown trees,
with thick, unyielding branches;
Have they blocked return?
Leaving a softer, more foreboding road.
Lined with the fixedness of leaves,
fooled with no cautious step
I’ve dared and fallen with them.

In realms of longing
where I’ve awoken
with eyes just clearing
from a sleep which kept me blind.

There a girl
with words unspoken
beckoned me
toward nowhere’s time.


For time once told
no measured minutes
never known could never seem.
But nowheres time is time we visit
left to doubt, reflect and seem.
As nowhere’s time has meant to me
after all, shall mean to me.


Could this girl
with eyes so silver
be the queen of time unknown?
Lifted us so we’d encounter;
Riches of such airy thrown.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Into a sea we dived,
turning calm waters, crimson red
the red of passion,
turned into roaring waves
which upon hitting the shore
curl back to form higher waves
redder still with more fury than the last.
Higher and higher reaching
I stood in awe
with her beside me
on that shore.
Forced retreat to gentler dunes,
biding time to dare yet more.
With us beside us fervor soared.
Could the wine have been yet more?

I dare not speak to such a question
which when knowing seals my fate.
To look upon such thick forests
once traversed but now abate.
But must seek, as all do sometime
love’s release of burden’s weight.

As winds slap cold my thoughts to seeing
where to know love’s soulful lake.
I perceive a truer vision;
Queen of old do not forsake,
the thrill again of your affection,
which now enshrouds this soul-lost wake,
and now propels my heart to take;
Fading hopes be not too late.

From steps on air to paths unbroken
I return to hear such fate.
From queen unknown to queen forsaken,
nowheres time to reverie,
steadfast paths which I can see,
never to return to me.
The prophet laughs of reverie,
and I must weep of roads to be.
No, the potion is not sweet.

* * * * * * * * * * *

In feeling the hard, rough terrain
have I felt unsure,
in traveling those paths,
which wound away from paths,
of paths worth knowing.
But the unknown trees,
with thorned, unyielding branches;
Have they blocked return?
Leaving a scarier, less secure path.
Lined with the fixedness of leaves,
fooled with no cautious step,
I’ve fallen and thus dared with them.

In realms where I’ve awoken,
with head just clearing from a dream which kept me lulled,
there a girl from paths worth knowing,
walked from me toward roads untold.

For roads once told
can never vanish
lessons taught and lessons learned.
But untold roads are those we visit,
left to doubt, reflect and seem.
There to want what could have been;
This a queen has left to me.

Could that girl
with eyes of dark green
be the queen I wanted so.
Beckoned me to discover;
Riches past my rightful throne.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Into a forest we stepped,
turning fallen trees into clear cut paths.
Yellow was the decay around us.
We worked it unto green,
till pushing harder
we forged the bushes red,
buttressing the yellow trees
while our steps outran the northern wind.
Further and further, we ran,
till alas, all leaves had fallen ahead of us;
leaving a void, desolate rubble.

I stood in the clearing alone,
red trees still in my sight.
Longing for her but she’s gone,
and the northern wind roars through the night.
The screaming wind which drains all life.
I eat the sand and curse the night.
I’m left recalling a long, lost fight.
As trees stand laughing through the night.
Trees stand laughing at my plight.

* * * * * * * * * * *

So, all queens have gone asunder,
in their wake my passion lies.
Leaving me here to wonder;
Can high ever reaching reach ever as high?
I search for an answer if answers can be;
Could wine so much sweeter be ever as sweet?

I dare speak to such a question
which when knowing frees my fate;
From living life, a mock illusion,
searching for paths abate.
No entrance sought with either answer,
no mis-held hopes from past mistakes.

Yet here lies a hopeful answer;
That either one won’t make a turn.
Still, I search for one less answer,
to drink again from one more urn,
and feel the wine as it can burn.

Now as I stand beside me,
Drawing back from land and sea.
Evoking grief which now but haunts me;
Fearful times, with time to be.

For time to be, no measured minutes
never known, could never seem.
When once is lost, to never finish;
The sands once past move out to sea.
As all such time will finally be;
Land once known, moved out to sea.

* * * * * * * * * * *

And as the rocks are battered by the wind
man receives the same.
The rocks, endowed with the ability
to never await another gust
are both fortunate and shorted by such resources.
But man must perceive.
And with his anxiety, which he calls wisdom,
he must, by anticipation
determine his own erosion.

And the rocks too will laugh
knowing the answer which erodes my soul.
So, yet I search and weep and roll.
I search and weep for a hidden scroll,
in a rain-drenched forest of love and cold,
where many paths will still unfold;
I step too cautious for time has told.

For time once told can never vanish
lessons taught and lessons learned.
When time has turned the leaves from living
time has taught a pain that burned.
And thus, has taught while seeking higher;
Cautious steps are paths discerned
And paths discerned I once walked on
left me wanting what was earned.

So as paths unfold before me
I proceed with cautious step.
Fearing things that stand before me
due to pains that time has left.
Yet I still seek what is left
always search for what is next.

Long journeys through the forest have left a redundant vision.
So many paths which I have seen;
Knowing, worthless, taunting scenes.
These paths of different pleasures
leave one wondering what has been.
Not the ways and means of wandering
but the ways and means within.

These paths do not take,
though their secure outlines seem to lead;
They’re only there for I should go.
I have walked them, I have reckoned
all that seems and all that knows.

Though the pain from all my wandering
have left the fruits of wine to sour.
Haven’t I still felt high again?
And after sinking, drained of power;
Wasn’t there still another blend?
Which if consumed would turn my passions
redder than they once had been.
Will it not be back again,
sweet as before, to liven my heart
with the richness it brings.

It seems to be so much closer to me -
Wine ever sweeter, be ever as sweet.

* * * * * * * * * * *

In realms of longing where I’ve awoken
with head just clearing
from a dream which kept me blind.
Here a seed for such to spring from;
Passion is this spark of mine.

Passion flows with pulse and fever.
Passion brings this aging wine;
Richer grapes from greener pastures.
Honeyed tastes from sweeter vines.
Just as violets bear the winter,
passion bides the lonely times.
For it goes where roads don’t lead to;
Passion cuts a path its own.
Turning leaves back to living
forming higher roads to know.

And higher roads I shall walk on,
look upon them, known to be.
Sanctioned by, passion’s blessing,
keeps the land from out the sea.
Hides the tree’s taunting branches,
stays the wind’s coldly shriek;
Follows close one allurement,
holds to life’s gentle plea;
Life’s long trust of passion’s longing.
Love’s lone lust of passion’s seed.
After all, shall light the morning;
Life’s lone touch of passion’s need,
The lasting touch of wine so sweet.
I’ll drink again a wine so sweet.