I look upon your image
the fine soft lines and curves
the flowing brown hair that longs to breath
those hills again of home.
I stand here
peering down through
that which makes us all whole, one
feeling the silent scream that none can hear
Save those that in their tormented beds have cried.
So much of what we feel
bears upon the soft texture of time
holds us here captive to the inevitable moment
where ours Souls torn upon the sadness
seeks the illuminating pen
and drives out words that spring eternal
From the store house of the soul.
I see the same hunger, the want
that dances in your eyes,
I know you feel it too
that somewhere between all our being
we both glimmer through
And know the other.
I hear within you
that aching child
that so cleaved her all to a dream
one washed upon the blood of tears
that wore the spirit down
I stand here a witness
to the crimes that man commits
to the broken hearts and minds
where first kissed and teased away
Till gone to soon the milk soured.
Walk with me
where the hills of time hold
each deep scented root of you and me
where the moon still glows to candlelit dream
And love still holds our key.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph