Words by Sina

(copyright) ©

Bookends - Reclaimed

And the journey
never ends,
as love is pursued,
through the unshaping sandstorms
where footsteps
never last,
where the midnight stars
kiss the eyes
willing to gaze ...

Well, the wind is right

for willow tree

to sing a love song

only I can hear,

a song

just for me.

I've been traveling

a world of days;

the dust of the ages

settled in my hair,

coarse and dirty.

the cold and hot,

light and dark

still lingering

upon

eyelids

that never rest.

My eyes drawn

like a loosened drum

by the wrinkles

of the sun

on the edges

of my temple,

brimstone

feet aching,

aching -- dream making --

for a gentle touch

of pumice,

clear water, and

the tender fingertips

of a tapstress

that midnight calls.

In the treks,

hill to hill,

mirage to bareness,

of a dream,

I have traveled the ages,

in the footsteps

of only me...

Quench

these lips

with sweet water

and a kiss...

Recompense

my burning

dreams.

Rise from the dust

and come back to me;

The sandstorms

of my journey

have calmed

my soul.

And yearning,

I watch

the clear stars

of midnight desire.

Come along

in my dreams

of my reality.

The stars

will show us

the way.

In the midst of desert wind,

surreal dreams that try to hold you

neath the midnight dew,

dreams consume

with a promise

of quiet streams

that meet

in the shallows

at the ends

of mountains

and meadows....

And the picture

speaks a thousand

dreams...

In the peacefulness

of the waters,

me, a paddle,

and a gliding board.

I look,

and scan,

nature so forgiving,

nature,

so permitting

me...

and my pair,

together

as one,

if she'll be one

with me.

And I know the hour is early

blossom of a kiss

not yet born,

I know dreams

are plenty,

and eloping

not in the scope...

I know,

and I know that she knows.

Take me

some day

soon

into the silence

of your nature;

cleansing waters,

and the desires

of your adventure.

Through the desert

past the lakes of dreams

towards the hills

where god breaths

love above

and love beneath,

Lovers speak

once more

until the end of

what end may be....

In the garden of

my means

I wait

for the breeze to blow.

The scent of love

will come to me

one day,

some day.

Neath the shadow

of my dreams

the willow bended

moonbeam

suspended,

I can't be

just another dreamer;

I wait

hoping,

certain,

that my dream

will come true,

love will find me.

Shivering,

shimmering

blossoms and leaves

in tune

with every beat

of my heart.

Will the day come soon,

butterflies,

blissful kisses,

and turning circles

of mercy.

Today,

many moons have passed

me,

tonight,

the seasons and time

have surpassed me.

I believe,

still,

maybe I

perceive,

That love

will meet me,

at some new moon,

some year

leaping.

But,

Years

are burning,

now,

skin falling,

wrinkled,

arms

of love

unwielding

like some mad desperate

mission

to consume me.

My time,

won't be here

anytime soon;

My time,

has been with me

all along.

Time

to go

and walk

the shorelines,

of ocean breeze.

Perhaps,

there,

love will

find me.

Once more
the reality of now
the dream and pain
of not now,
and not again,
inflicts and embeds
some empty hole
of gray and black
deep within,

It's not a case of

not enough ink

and too much white

when I read your letters.

Skillful words

optimized and maximized

pointed, barbed and jagged,

words

that pierce

tear apart and drag down.

Not a case of

what could be

or what should have been,

it's a case of

what never was,

these days you pass me by

inflicting

and never pause.

It's not a case of

filling the void

when nothing needs to be said,

retched views and thoughts

on display,

or the waves of

poignant hearts

that can lead emotions astray.

It's a case of

saying too much,

too late,

intentional,

fruitless and unyielding,

designed to clutch

and berate.

It's a case

of painful truth

about what you wear;

torn and ragged dress,

seams perfectly undone,

high heel shoes,

and a mask of despair.

And again

the refuge of emptiness

seems appealing,

from tenderness

to unfeeling,

love not ever falling,

love, appalling,

refuge

so appealing.

Ocean breaths

Ocean breeze;

Ocean breeds.

Seems sterile,

Empty,

pure and cleansing,

like darkness,

like light,

like a love

sent from above.

I turn away,

and back again,

it seems alive,

like a jungle,

roaring,

full of life,

anger,

and calm.

And we,

walk,

on the outside

wishing,

jumping high,

floating in its twizone,

tempting life,

on its borders of daring,

searching,

dreaming,

yearning.

Tiny droplets of plenty.

Reflections of life, thundering...

Water,

washing,

connecting us

together,

to the other side.

Tomorrow,

though so far away

has finally found me.

Time is now,

thought I would never

be ready.

Reclaimed

And pomegranate blues
extend the olive branch
and lose;
The sun rises
and brightens an empty cup
filled with untouchable hues;
It's all there
all for you
to believe
in a dream
born by some other soul....

In a world of parallels

and crossroads,

journeys

and dreams,

re-examine

the footprints

that my lead you into

someone else's footsteps

and towards

someone else's dreams.

And go on, you will,

flying dreams;

Some lucky fortune

to fly

dreams of faith

coloured heavens

fingertips weaving

every vein,

and loves that never end

until the morning awakens

to a reality unknown.....

In the hush

and birth

of a kiss,

as our minds mingle

and toy

with foreverness

holding onto time

so eagerly,

wanting to

never let go,

let me break

the silence

and whisper

my love to you.

In the churn

of the ocean's

thunderous roar

sit by me,

rest your hopes

and dreams

inside me;

We will hold on

and watch

every ebb and flow,

every wave's

pounce

and surge,

every refluence

and fading glow.

Rest the waterfall

of your dreams

and fears

drop by drop

on the rock

of my love for you.

Lessons taught

and never realized

you ready the heart

for the fall

for the rise

for the pains

and the smiles,

ascending

descending

waterfalls that drop

to the skies;

Rain pours

like hazy tears,

snow falls

butterfly wings,

I raise my hands

the black crow skies,

my feet planted firmly

in the forehead

of the snake eyes,

When I'm alone

and descending.

In the arms of love

I touch

the dragonfly

rainbow skies,

feet softly

floating

on waterlily stalks

and breezy walks,

ascending

on the feathered wings

of love.

And once more
we believe
that time
isn't
and time is,
and it can
but is never able
to be
the healer
as promised;
words,
from the mouth
of the healer
by the bough
of the kneeler.

In the purple memories

of "might have been"s ,

neath the feathered plumes

and

wandering flights

of maybe's

there is a love

resting,

patiently,

Cautiously,

Aimlessly,

in the wing.

Love,

Bitterly sweet

In the pomegranate

Lips

and conscious of you.

I pretend

And I tend

to leave, and,

To believe

that time

Is not a healer

When passion

Is so deep.

In the wing,

Love remains,

still,

Aimlessly.

And love heals

and it aches

it grows

and it ebbs

into some

revealing kame

buried

in the ice

of the ages

and reality

tears apart

turning

warmth of love

to ice

and some burning

empty dream.....

In the realm of a love story,

I thought I had staked my claim...

long ago.

Ingressed, and given more than I took.

After all the years,

sharing every spec of wanton fulfilling,

abandoned desires for all the "might have been"s

nothing now is standing in the way of your leaving.

What will it take for a sentimental fool

to reconcile such reality!

And once more,

the lovers of beauty

and the beauty of lovers

vanish

in the dust of vague

insane,

stagnant,

hopeful,

want to be's

There is no one left, it seems,

day light after night fall.

No one left to cling to,

to meander

flowers and love to bring to,

the heroes and heroins gone;

Lovers of some other era,

Nothing left to whisper to no one.

Though there are many lovers

in the past,

and in the sky.

No,

there is no one that touches me.

The unlikely universe

the expanded,

the very one

that entangled,

reveals

the gentle souls

hidden within,

souls that were once,

me,

that were once,

you...

Specs of what might and might not,

We are.

The many things we are

And we are not,

In the universe

So unlikely.

I found you

You found me.

Our lips so fitting,

Our dreams

Poised

To come True.

In a universe

So unlikely.

And

Here

We are.

In the quiet of my dreams

You found me.

In the searching desires

Of your soul

I found you.

And here we are,

searching,

Maybe searching no more

In the universe

Of mine

Of your

Here we are

So unlikely.

Finding

Naturally what might be

Lips locked

Asking

Why this wasn't

A long time ago.

Likely

Unlikely.

Likely you want

Likely what I want

Likely meant to be

In a universe

So unlikely.

Kiss me

In a universe

So beautiful

Because we can make true

What might be.

Terra

Open wings soaring watchfully
The sun, the ocean breeze, squinting
Wisely balanced orb

"Terra" expanded

Oh mother earth

pure and gentle

everlasting

now destined to who knows where;

worshiped on the outside, burning, on your

inside

nimbus within earthly nebula

gravitating every dream

suspending in the dazzling

silhouette

of your sun;

and your sons

remember the days of

incantation

new seasons of rebirth

giving life to every creature

wise, wild, free

amidst your rivers

towering mountains of gazing

control and serenity;

hours that have passed you

fractures and fusions

under the umbrella of your

lances, your romances,

leaving memories

you recalled inside the dust and

Tender shadows,

house of the sunrise;

every morning of your flight

searing deserts,

uttering winds,

newly laden snow,

tree that whisper,

hours do not

exist where you roam,

over and over

coming around

every morning,

and every season. Forgive, your

new children of

base and abject

recluse.

Elevations

emerge

zealously

every peak gathered and your grains of

sand; roaring oceans, thunders, quakes---

quarrels you have seen,

utter madness of man

in vain, inhumane.

nestle your child

tender your unyielding wild

intensely breeding and breathing

new life you are

giving, forgiving.

Will your tomorrow survive

in the roundabouts of your soulful

sunrise

eternal as you have been

lava of a million

years, foreboding

bleeding, bruising, humans

abusing, weaving, never

leaving; you

alone, in the serene mornings and

nights.

capture the essence of your

eternal beauty and

dance,

on the stage of time

rebuilding your beauty and

balance.