To each dawn a dusk, to each rise
To each tongue a word unspoken
of sacrifice that weighs heavy.
Weigh yourself carefully
against the height of the mountain
you are climbing.
A traveller comes walking
carrying a torch for you the shape of a home.
Fire only knows want,
this traveller has studied the flame
years before they met you.
Each river flows towards
each heart towards a resolution
of faith and longing.
You are filled to the brim,
whole in yourself.
Alchemy is trying to turn a stone
There’s no word for trying to turn
a memory into a cup of coffee,
not for lack of trying on your part.
But the past tastes sweeter these days.
What would you do
if your chains weren’t so golden?
Capsized by the waves your old
decisions have made,
you’ll stay afloat, but much may be lost.
Rootless like a rose plucked for it’s beauty,
you find cruelty in the pasts embrace.
You need not be a rose,
a thorn by any other name would sting
You’ll meet a tall, dark, stranger.
So dark, the heart will seem to
encompass the whole of you,
and when you leap into it
eternity stretches from your fingertips.
And they will be a stranger to you
Do not be gentle with yourself
if your lips are turning to stone
by the break of winter.
Work yourself like a sculpture,
there are words lost here
to be found again.
Aren’t you tired?
Do you imagine Sisyphus laughing?
do you wish to be mythical
in your love, so painted in virtue
and martyred on another’s
Or do you wish to lay down your arms
for just a bit?
All that is lost is forever owned
by in the house of memory,
alone they await the moment
where even there they are
out of reach.
not to find yourself within it.
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