The torrent...
She traces every contour
A delicate motion like a painter’s hand
Quiet words of calm she whispers
As she sculps the jagged land
Crystalline is her surface
Smooth ethereal tranquility
Her depth can be deceiving
Dare not belittle her abilities
Gentle is her touch
The caress of a mother’s hand
Anger her you dare not
Rock will dissolve into grains of sand
So, I sit here in awe on this bank
As a leaf glides by with such ease
I hear an angry storm brewing
Take shelter if you please
...from the torrent
Second sight...
In the heat of this day
A cool wind finds her way
Gives pause, as I look to the sky
Stagnate, so easy to fall
Bounded by an endless wall
Searching for a reason why
Weightless, now I become
Tethered not by any one
On the wings of inspiration do I fly
I will remember the heat of this day
When words found their way
When her breath whispered in my ear
So a few words do I write
To the wind that revisited this night
A tear of joy, do i shed for second sight
My muse...
A puzzle tied and bound
Always pieces never found
Waiting for Calliope
Alas, I sit here again
Empty pages of missing words penned
Waiting for Calliope
Always just out of reach
A grain on an endless beach
Waiting for Calliope
I have yet to understand
How she is able to take my hand
And guide me thru this maze
Of unwritten land
Patiently waiting for Calliope
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