2001 – Equinoxx (Looking Glass Self)

Equinox

 

to paint the deserts blue and grey
with songs of open roads,
to write dramatic scenes
for a stage beneath the eyelid,
to make the moments pause, to freeze them for a while
with counterpoints of dreams…

when night and day unite
the secret tunes ignite

this strange desire
this inner-mounting fire
stretching out life
with restless, beating hearts

this mystic engine,
this underlying surge,
along the lonely miles,
along the highways from the soul…

to move and shake the world
with astounding thoughts,
to weave the fabric of a profound dream,
an enigmatic theme…

when you and I unite
the images ignite…

this strange desire,
this inner-mounting fire,
stretching out life
to see what it means,

this mystic engine,
this underlying surge,
along the lucky miles,
along the highways from the soul…

to paint the cities red and green
with songs of open roads,
to make the moments pause,
to freeze them for a while
with a vivid sense of change…

for each age is a dream that is dying
or one that is coming to birth…
(A. o’Shaugnessy)
Footprints of angels

when you walked through that door
I was left with all (that) you were,
with your words echoing
in the shade of all yesterdays gone by…

in between was and be
lies a void filled with rain
and these ghosts all around
playing scenes that will never be.

when I could not let it go,
when I could not learn to grow,
your mark became my weight,
walking down backward roads,
to relive a precious scene,
trying to find release.

what I was, what I am,
what I ever shall remain
walks within a certain shade…

when you stole from my room
with your salt burning on my skin,
took your face from the wall,
afraid to walk the long night all alone.

when I could not let it go,
when I could not learn to grow,
when your mark became a weight,
racing down aimless streams
to float on changeless days,
trying to find direction.

what you were, what you are,
what you ever shall remain,
walks within a certain shade,
walks silently and without me.

when you walked through that door
I was left with all that you were,
with these words echoing
in the shade of all yesterdays gone by…
The Valparaiso dreaming

after the colours had flown
from the washing of the rain
much was taken and forlorn
by the rhythm of the strain.

but through shifting sands of time
and hours of regret,
in a light of great designs
the river deep ran on…

dream
dream the line
dream the line to walk
to walk the line of dream

after the music had stopped
to wash away the stains
there was nothing left to cling to
but a truthful state of pain.

yet in the spray of restless tides,
and along all winding roads,
in a brief state of grace
the river deep ran on…

dream
dream the edge
dream the edge to walk
toward the edge of dream

dream
dream the line
dream the line to walk
to walk the line of dream

dream
dream the edge
dream the edge to walk
toward the edge of dream

Stigmata

 

walk with me down to the water’s edge
where the mirrors lie and wait…

this feeling speaks
with the quiet flutes of fall,

that disturb the sleep of sunken images,
the memory of voices in abandoned rooms,

it breathes darkly through a lonely man,
the kiss of brother Cain…

walk with me down to the river’s edge
where the secrets lie and wait…

these wounds bleed
the solemn pride of mourning,

an overwhelming pain nourishing the flame,
the cold embrace of breaking hearts,

and though the nails may hurt
don’t take this pain away…

this sadness speaks
of golden plains and lakes of blue,

like the curse of a wrathful god
like dew dropping from a thorn,

it speaks of things in secret tongues,
it is speaking out a name…

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