On the Edge of the Storm

Darkness descends out of time on the edge of the storm.
A single blossom glows, a chill wind sweeps down the mountain.
My heart aches for those far from where I am.
Nothing seems so precious as it is in a moment
Where nothing can be taken for granted.

Shekhina’s Song

Dark wings carry this illuminated body.
Held aloft by shadowed ritual and wordless vows.

It is the darkness that is embellished by the moon’s glowing visage -
An inky sea made tangible but continually transcendent.

A night garden, where each blossom exudes its own hidden nature.
Every nocturnal breath an affirmation of our own mortality.

Harbingers of Light

Citrine waves brush along my person
Far past where I remain they congeal
Beckoning the sprites of the celestial falling
As to a siren they flock and converge
A steady and driving allegro
Once all are gathered,
They take to their task
Moving breath blown rays
Leagues beyond mortal grasp
So lies soft light
Until the swimming pools
Of dark cover all