The Calling

As the rush of the grass strokes your hand,
And each dash of the wind adds a flavor new,
All you want to do is write about that distant land,
Where the only king your body served were you.

As the whiff of the waves hits you in the face,
And the squeaks of the sand clutch on to your feet,
All you want to do is rewind and play those days,
When the only ring your heart knew was its own beat.

As the size of the peaks reveals the grand scheme,
And the mystery of the shadows speaks of a friend,
All you want to do is groove to the ancient dream,
Which is the only string your mind follows at the end.

As you feel alive with all the senses firing the brain,
And the mind, heart and body connected at the core,
All you can do is ask yourself again and again,
What is the only thing your soul’s here to search for?


Image by Pezibear


The Illusionist

I have watched you sleep
With your eyes wide open,
As I could see in them deep
A dream long forgotten.
I have seen you cry hard
From the corner of your lips,
When the waves took apart
The secret of unsailed ships.
I have heard your gasps
Which came along each nod,
Unable to dodge the rasps
They bore with the obvious flawed.
I have felt your cold hands
Under the summer leaves,
They spoke of distant lands
Where not a single soul grieves.

I have tried peeping into you
To find the mystery in your shrine,
But it was not to be, I knew,
The day you looked in mine.


Image by Stefan Keller