Relics

[Imagine17]

Relics

I was restless in the hour that I met you.
Full of curiosity in the appearance of elegance.
Elegant not only in the body but in mind.
A rich nature of well being and purity in perception.
Relics in past ridden eyes, sentimental.

I can see the past in your eyes.
Your eyes and mine.
But tired of the same old pictures.
Weary from a spiral of rapid thoughts.
Dancing with the flirtatious figures made in the light.
The beautiful paintings of the future colored in the night.

I don’t know what I saw.
In the quick flashes of lighting I saw hope.
In the long periods of darkness I saw despair.
It was a universal spark that set off the most orgasmic sense of being.
Knowing, floating in that one corner of time, aware.

But that stone has rolled its course,
And the paintings of the future are now vague.
They’ve become drawings of the past.
Only shady memories lost in the haze of age.
You can only turn the page.
And dream of those relics.


On The Stream

On the stream.
Carelessly flowing.
Slowly rowing down.

On the stream
Carefully listening.
Listening to the birds.

Quietly flowing down the stream.
Water trickles through rocks.
Ripples in a dream.