Can't deliver a regular blog today, trying to figure out how to handle returning to non-PSG land. Two poems written out in the closest thing to Heaven I've seen have to be worth something, though.
Fading (For Mia)
Yet again you leave
I feel your presence slip away
It sears me anew
Each time you take more
And the schism grows
Less of me stays alive
Less of me breathes
To make room for the longing
For you.
You.
My unceasing plea: Stay.
Solstice Prayer
O Muse!
Speak to me of sun
and wind
and rain
and earth.
And the solace of mistlaced morns,
of drum scored dusks.
We watch and laud that the sun
Pushes on,
Gilding the treetops
Sending the supplicant leaves' edges curling upward.
We turn 'round with joy at the spiraling dance
Our true mother leads us in.
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