05: Returned

Long years it has been

since I've walked this path.

Many ages ago it seems

since I've heard people laugh.

Here I stand once again

amongst the ruins of my past.

I reminisce on a former life

trying to make each memory last.

Now I painfully weave

the infinite threads of time;

each fragment being pieced

within the confines of my mind.

The melody of remembrance

seems more distant than near.

These delicate strains of music

I summon to my ear.

And yet the more I recall

the more I see the change.

This once too familiar place

how now grown . . . strange.

The trees, once tall and proud,

have become wizened and old.

Even the once bright azure sky

now seems dull gray and cold.

But even with the broken shards

of the glory days of yore,

I shall put forth my strength

and restore it to times before.

For I have returned . . .

04: Moonlight Race

Tonight I gaze into the twilight sky,

observing the moon way up high.

Its light, a peaceful glow,

calms all that shelters below.

The pale radiance fills my sight

as it pierces through the velvet night.

How it promenades with the stars above,

laughing and dancing like fairies in love.

Suddenly a change in pace,

across the heavens it does race.

The moon, Luna's chariot, quickly flies,

moving to the distant horizon before my eyes.

So close now the mood does seem

as the sky awakens from night's dream.

Darkness is now fading ever so slow

as the aura of day begins to glow.

The horizon's so near but not quite there;

the moon wanes as the sun ignites the air.

Through morning mist the moon disappears,

so far from its goal yet still so near.

03: Contemplations

Is this world a true reality
or is it all just a dream?
Are we to dwell in a fantasy
and to live as we deem?
The sky above and the earth below
forever seem unchanged.
Yet of this world we know
time makes all things estranged.
All things are relative in the mind;
good and bad, black and white.
Concrete truths are hard to find:
How dark is dark, how light is light?
Now try to ponder this
on why we all exist.
Ah! how ignorance can be bliss
as thoughts hide in fog and mist.
A final contemplation I confer to you,
a riddle of ancient philosophies.
To each person there's another view,
adding to this enigma of mysteries.
Is this world ruled by destiny
and free will a mere illusion?
What is thy notion on the powers that be?
Your answers determine thy conclusion.

02: Sonnet I

There is a place beyond the mists of time,

a realm far older than the days of yore.

Few laid eyes on a domain so sublime,

as it hides from us in mythical lore.

Its sandy beaches greet the shining sea;

with a zephyr the golden sun does rise,

beaming its warm gentle light unto thee.

So welcomes the dawn of this paradise.

Exotic plants and trees this place contains,

where birds of nature sip the evening dew.

Here, their siren song no person disdains,

a thought known to many yet sensed by few.

Many things - illusions - this place does seem,

strange yet whimsical as if from a dream.

01: Unspoken Thoughts

These thoughts flow from me,
as they cannot be contained.
They are whispers in my mind, unspoken
and unheard by an indifferent world.

To cease the endless chatter,
they are given art and form.
I shall make them manifest
with poetry as their medium.

Now they shall not be forgotten,
though still unspoken and unheard.
Read them as they are within,
and see my thoughts - my legacy.

Under the Shadow of Leaves

Leaves by *Satan-angel-Kat on deviantART

Under the Shadow of Leaves is collection of poems that stems from an older unfinished work, Unspoken Thoughts, that I began in high school. What I began then I hope to finish here. These poems reflect my thoughts and style, and so it will be interesting to see how they progress through time.

There is no real cohesion between the poems. Most are separate and independent from the others. There are poems on my thoughts, poems of my imagination, poems on observations of the world, and probably more. They may not always make sense, they may not always have form, and they may be written in naivete (perhaps more so in the earlier works), but they are genuine.

So enjoy the journey that has already taken years, with many pit-stops along the way. And at the end of its days, I shall sit on a bench under a tree, and bask under the shadow of leaves.

2003 - present

Hours to Dawn

I write this past midnight, just hours to dawn. It has been over a year and a half since I last posted here. This blog has lain dormant and asleep for far too long.

It is time. It is time for a revival, a resurrection. It is time for this blog to wake just hours to dawn. Both new and old shall be added. Things on the shelves, destined by time to become dust, shall be re-written and hopefully read.

I have encountered an impasse with Passacaglia - that damned writer's block - for too long. Doubtless Passacaglia will resume, though chapters probably won't be released as often as I'd hope. I may start one or two other novels/books, though the likelihood of them ever reaching publication here is still tentative. Most prominent will be Under the Shadow of Leaves - a collection of my old, current, and future poems.

I'll take things as they come. As always, "dolce non agitato."