When hearts are a-lit,
In the earliest dawns;
They burst out like stars,
In darkest of midnights,
Resplendently glowing,
Forsaking ‘forgones’.
A-lighting the way,
Toward a place to call home.
When days are young,
The hours seem vast,
An infinite wave,
Of ebb and flow passed,
Into the ‘morrow,
Imprintedly-cast,
On grains as they fall,
Through the minds endless ocean……alone.
K. Aldaya, 2009
Picture: Artist Unknown; http://hdwallpaper.freehdw.com/hdw001/morning_purple_sunrise-wide.jpg
Prescience of quotidian enchantments:
The dreams one dreams ‘fore dawn.
Flowers, stars, sun, and moon,
Would seem form’laic were thee gone.
Thy face illumes the perfunctory tides,
Of apathy…, banality;
For if striven assiduously,
Smiles freely radiate from thee.
Myopically one cannot do much more,
Then love this deb’nair season.
For one dreams, hopes, and loves more,
Near thy beauty past all reason.
K. Aldaya, 2008
I cannot give you everything.
The stars I cannot reach.
A mortal am I and one day I will die;
Just as those whom in prayers we beseech.
I cannot give you gold and jewels,
Or titles and castles.
I will though give, what I can as we live,
Together as earthly vassals.
I cannot give you perfection,
If such a thing there were.
Capricious. Perfidious.
And a ‘God’ lifes’ one comforter.
I cannot give you everything,
Yet this I give to you.
A hope. A prayer.
A joy, and a care.
A promise to look after you.
And forever give, should I now die or live,
All the love which my heart could now or ever give.
K. Aldaya, 4/12/08
Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://blog.myheritage.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/1221258221F3Les7b.jpg
What cardinal loathsome misery.
To see beauty in its’ utmost form,
And ne’er the hands to hold it to thee,
And ne’er the words to let its’ truth free.
K. Aldaya, 06/02/07
Mine eyes emerge from the chalice of dreams,
Drunk is the heart, as a lover, it seems.
Thy flesh is aglow as the glisten of dew,
Every morn, as thy face shines anew.
Enigmatic beauty in thy form,
Clouds all logic,
O’ thy presence is warm.
I care not of ‘morrow or any swift sorrow.
Thy life is my life, and thy strength I may borrow.
My lips cascade thy cloth-less, soft expanse,
Endless intoxications, to entrance.
For when morn turns to eve, and night to day,
I know not the reasons, but only the way;
That thy life fills my life,
And breathless I stand,
With my heart, thy heart,
And my hand in thy hand.
K. Aldaya, 04/10/07
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 
