Long, dark never-ending nights,
    Waiting endlessly for morning lights.
Wishing time would hurry on its way,
    And shorten the hours in each passing day.

Wishing a year could pass in an hour,
    And passing of time was within my power.
My chores here would be quickly completed,
    And I would be free to go where I'm needed.

Roaming the universe here and afar,
    And pausing a moment to rest on a star.
If there was but one I could make understand,
    I'd follow the ocean, the wind, and the sand.

To be free of all earthly restrictions and strife,
    Waiting impatiently, for another life.
days, weeks slowly passing,
    Anticipating a time more everlasting.

When all here, is finally over and done,
    The battles have ended, the games lost or won.
Then the waiting is over and wishing no more,
    For eternity at last----has opened the door.

Midnight autumn breeze,
I sit huddled, my knees tucked tightly against my chin.
I sit on the hill beside the fence.
The village settles into starlight silence.

The solitude whispers me away--my lonely sirens' song.
Always with me.  Part of me. Me.

I do at times…
Revel.
Sing.
Laugh, hope and cry.
I do at times--among my friends.
And it does a times fill me and complete me.

But it is in other times--these times
when I hear my call--my sirens' call
that I become me.  Make me  remake me.

Midnight autumn breeze,
I sit huddled, knees against my chin.
The hill, the fence, the village, dissolve.
I am here. My siren has taken me. We are one.
I am.
In this midnight autumn breeze.

Copyright 1998 Tommas A. Del Vecchio

 

The moon rises Over the cool earth The green carpet Placed under your feet Glistens with dew Reflecting light, like- A prism in the night The purple sky Clouded, with- Pink clouds of soft cotton And you walk the path Over ceramic tiles, like- A twelve hour journey Leading to the sanctuary Of the porcelain king You open the door, revealing- Anomes in a sea of plaster Fingers beckoning, look- Flowers on the hill Glittering, six feet tall Whispering of sleep Heavy eyelids listen Obeying, Welcoming the silent darkness Copyright 1998 Antoinette Swanson  all rights reserved Top Top of this Section Close the box and return to the Archive Room Sanctuary

The land waits With thorn filled vines And overgrown shrubs 'Till nighttime falls And nocturnal creatures rise Then soft whispers call out To ride the wind And surround you The voice leads the way Through visions Of bloody battles Past moments in time To the sanctuary Of your ancestors Copyright 1997 Antoinette Swanson  all rights reserved Top Top of this Section Close the box and return to the Archive Room You are visiter  to this room Copyright 1998 Antoinette Swanson All Rights Reserved