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The Loss of Innocence




Jumping climbing



Through leafy splendour

Careening through pillowy piles

Newly fallen


Running about foot in front of foot

Suddenly to find a rake

With its tines in your sole

Its haft in your face



A Mortalís Immortality


Now we come so soon to die

And we become nothing more

Than piled, osseous rubble

Long buried and forgotten

In a sandy loamy realm

Our joints upset and backwards

As worms writhe within our eyes

And our graves turn to pebbles

And our bones return to earth

And our souls, those massless things

Of which no one knows a titch

Float above and without us

In the form of misty wisps

And so we simply lie there

With our bones and souls undone,

Our remains sunken deeply

To a place beneath the sand

With nothing more to utter

But only this will be the

Ever-lasting face of man

















Windriderís Song


Have you ever been a sail, child?

Have you ever felt yourself

filled by the wind,

carried by the whim

of an ambling breeze?

Ever abandoned yourself

to fly


to whatever place it is

where the waiting zephyr sleeps?


Have you ever been


by the locks of forethoughtó

ever felt truly free?


Have you ever been a sail, child?

Ever given yourself

to the angry gale?

Ever been thrown about

by the screaming


or tossed

upon the rocks

by the howling fury

of a none-to-gentle storm?


Have you ever found yourself

on the calmest sea

only to realize it was no more than the eye

of Armageddon?


Have you ever been a sail, child?

Ever been subjected

to the twists and turns

of mercurial fate?

Ever placed yourself

at the mercy

of the abrasive cold,

the gentle warmth

of the mindless

winds of change?