277. Seduction

He knew better than to dream.

Yet he,…he dreamt anyway.

Darkness lifts for a time as days’ gleam.

Ah, the temptress-sun loves to play,

With the hearts of hopeful men.

Oh, see well what cannot be.

See thee clearly what will die,

When dark descends and souls we bury.

Unadjusted eyes more outcry,

The loss of ‘what might have been’.

Time is both reaper and muse;

E’er blooming and withering.

Aware it’s the reapers’ time we use,

To grab hope-worms a’slithering;

And live as ‘productive’ men.

He knew better than to dream,

Yet he,…he dreamt anyway.

The pain is greatest for men who dream.

Agony is sure,…Yet lo, the day!

What a seductive oarsman!

…on this boat to the River Styx.

K. Aldaya, 9/22/14

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://hdwallpapersly.com/favourite-river-boat-at-sunset-wallpaper/favourite-river-boat-at-sunset-wallpaper-2/

271. On a Path Through The Woods

There is a path through the woods,

Which winds and twists a course,

Through its’ bold coniferous steeples,

Rising from their source:

The earth and its’ wood-spirits,

They call out from the deep.

Why is it those voices seep through me,

And stir my soul to weep?

What words have I to write-out,

Of how lovely and rich?

The forests are, to those who can hear,

In the ‘unheard’ pitch.

Of light fairy fantasies.

Flowing brooks and rivers.

Of high, ancient trunks as wise as Gods;

And time, which delivers….

A carefree hum on the breeze.

Hum: to the flow of life…

And death, where spirits dwell lost in dance;

Where I, and my life,

May drift into their trance…

On a path through the woods.

K. Aldaya, 5/27/14

Picture: Artist Unknown; Originally from Crazy-Frankenstein.com; http://www.jogjis.com/stock/summer-forest-wallpapers.jpg

204. Content

The wind is blowing softly,

With the scent of the coming fall.

I yearn for it,

And hope for it,

As never I have before.

The anger I knew once,

A focused beam of strength;

And everyday, yes every day,

I pray my blessed-thanks.

“You’ll be okay”,

“You’ll be alright”,

Whispers in my ears;

From out the peace,

Which does not cease,

Between the earth and me.

You’re free.

You’re free!

And you can be,

All you choose to be!

For in the present,

Heaven-sent,

I’m content to be me.

K. Aldaya, 9/05/06

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xrBZH-rXkMQ/T51Oaxg4L0I/AAAAAAAACRY/B6O1YC8bv4Q/s400/girl,sun,pretty,running,freedom,sunlight-fb8641fa231ee1cbdd389e2f773a1b3b_h.jpg

145. Freedom to Dream

The birds fly through the trees,

Enriching our eyes with each glimpse.

The freedoms we seek from birth,

Flowing on wings of fair-primps:

Feathers of nature-bound worth.

Whisper your secrets to me on air,

Creaking down stagnant-dreamers:

Trees that reach toward the heavens,

Entreating enchantment-glimmers.

From the sun of divine-leavens.

Float through the halls of Valhalla,

O’ blessed creatures, soar and deliver,

The glory-soaked emancipations,

Of souls of vast times…now a quiver;

On birds with knowledge for all nations.

Freedom’s not a gift or privilege,

Something given to only a few.

Freedom’s what every spirit born,

Through all times and every land through,

Needs to count themselves earth-born.

For just as the sun daily shines,

And the trees reach to catch its’ beams.

The birds, just as us, must seek also,

To live an existence which gleams.

And flying with wings let ago…

As all the souls who’ve come and go,

To find life is a haven of limitless dreams!

K. Aldaya, 6/11/05

Picture: “Soar” by Nomadlens; http://www.nomadlens.com/old/index-showimage=60.php.html

131. Good Things to Come

Birds are chirping fiercely,

A sign of good things to come,

For just ’cause you can’t see its’ worth,

Doesn’t conclude that it has none.

Shut your eyes and listen…,

Listen to their song of life.

Bury deep their soft melodies,

Which sooth passing-times’ lurking strife.

Let their voices lead you,

Each day, by day, by day long,

To hum a happy tune of hope:

That life can bring to ear sweet-song.

Good things are on their way,

Found by some but there for all,

Flowing from the breath of ‘God’s’ love,

Through birds, for mens’ hearts to enthrall.

—–In morn his passions’ call.

K. Aldaya, 3/17/05

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://www.iwallscreen.com/stock/morning-birds-hd-wallpaper.jpg