Do you see the candle dance
we shiver together in the darkness
the too loud silence
scraping fingernails on
the chalkboard of the night
Crickets and coffee caress
pre-dawn draws
the life from the night
and all that is being done
has been done
all that is left
is the crushing silence
that is so loud
it screams
In the darkness she comes
through the open windows she climbs
or through the screen porch door
to wrap her arms gently around
and sing the song of not quite silence
the song of the night
the quite whisper
of the wind in the leaves
the crickets and cicadas
crying in the summer’s end
the hum of the neighbor’s heat pump
are they really missing
the beauty of the song
deep blue taffeta
drapes itself
for the dance that can only really come
with the night music
I walk this world
Cold and alone
Silent and in fear
Reaching out in the darkness
And finding
I’m not alone
I find all
of the other
cold lonely people
silently searching
people like you
people like me
desperately searching
yet afraid to find the meaning
In the deepest coldest stillest
dark of the night
One little spark
match, candle, 10 watt bulb
shines brighter
Than the brightest
streetlights, neon light, headlights
in the warmth of
the noonday sun
Just so is
the way one little spark
the glow of a silent dream
of hope
nurtured and coveted and held tightly
eventually growing
feeding the flame
until it lights
the whole of the heart
treasure your dreams
nurture your flame
no matter how tiny
Help it grow
I feel the dark
The twisting dirt eating worms
that crawl through my soul
trying to eat away
at not only the edges
of my dreams
but at the core of my being
my soul
my all that I am
I fight
to squash the fears
to push the worms
not just our of my soul
where they can come back
or worse
eat away at someone else’s dreams
but to drive
the darkness
doubts
worms
fears
out of the world
so everyone can be free
to persue
their warmth and to
bask in the beauty and light
of their dreams
Lonely and defective
cold clear through to the mind
alone on the closet floor
darkness fills the void
within
without
the silence
palpable, a living breathing thing
Clandestine Writing... 