Man’s Heart is but a Drop of Dew on the Violet Flower, 2024

Fear not the armor
the lovely strong steel
but fear neither body
wherein love you shall feel

Yonder life is a mystery
born of glittering lines
and the clasp is trustworthy
yet, my hour naught found

So I try there to walk
among the shivering pines
and I try to be braver
following this path as it binds

So hear me, morning hour:
that not even man with all his power
can consequence outrun
and joy is but a drop dew in the sun!

So when in flower, turned to fruit
go declaim of every truth:
that even he who loves in truce
would sooner light his own fuse
than be generous with his youth

We dreamt in dark, of dragon wing
and there was nothing left to say
so dear friend, be on your way
we’ll meet again one day

Yes, go back to the grave
and I’ll meet you there one day

And remember, Oh ay
that love’s a needle in hay
and life’s a mighty good garden
inwhich humans do play

And I played, O, I played
ran roads by paths paved
and at the end of all days..
my own heart was saved

I saw the water fall from the sky
when the fire was plowed
now it rages on no more..
for I’ve opened up the door
 

look yonder, to yore!

I’m reborn evermore
and this time I’m sure,
that I know what love’s for
and it’s joy, joy to the core
it’s mortality’s only cure

So..

Ba dum, ba dum
My heart’s still mine

Ba dum, ba dum
even after all this time..

Art is boundless, art is eternal

it is the only one thing

that can capture the ephemeral

Look, love, listen and see

I feel with my little heart..

something greater than the sum of its parts

and I live with my little soul

a time enriched, which makes it all whole

We gather together, in reverence

and we sit together, in penitence

once chalk, limestone

a carved bow, carved bone

turned oil, new-grown

in eternal shade

a vibrant tone

Look, love, listen and see

what do you feel?

Art is our love taken form,

the glow as it pulses, in a heart good and warm

and art is the shape of our longing

in yearning for rain, a calm summer wind

finding its way in..

I saw many things, I say them again

I’ve given everything,

and my passion knows no end

convolution, absolution

brings the depth of the human existence

into fruition

Look ye, hark ye! - I am come to the land of love

for a liaison in the garden, hidden by the dale

but such was the issue, and thus was the tale to be told;

in which every flower rots in my hand

and old, it is old, the myth of the man

who gives what is good, and dares go aland

even in stranger lands

Alas I’ve Given it All, but Mercy Has No Chance.. The Night is so Long - And Cruel Men Must Dance, O, I cower..

In fear of the plague!

for I have seen a field of flowers where precious time is powdered to dust in the mill

And it was right then and there, that I let go of fear - and first met the wilies, my dear

So hear me Myrtha, I leave their fates to you

for you showed me it’s true; man’s heart is but a drop of dew in the sun

yes, man’s heart is but a drop of dew on the violet flower at dusk

it’s a light held in fashion, just a toy in blood

So I slept in a rosebud, and awoke to the rain

it stilled every fire, and conquered the pain.. 

Now lo and behold..

My heart is still mine...

even after all this time.

È del poeta il fin la meraviglia

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge
it is drops of dew on the countenance of all beauty
I become I; by becoming all
I become life, the antidote to walls and barriers
of time, and thought
opinion and place
lines untraced, tears on your face
I’m the uniter
of age and wealth,
body and health
I bring we together
so we can exist forever

it is wonder, fascination
in nostalgia
and ablution

vanitas, infinitas
where are they?
bound to the sound
just waiting to be found

and you were lost on the moor
came home to a locked door
so left a pasquinade, little rodomontade
we playfully play
make joy of your frustration
enter it, once astray
and now you’re here

I become my poem
I become my love

Poetens syfte, är att väcka förundran

fifteen, nineteen
eighteen..
longing ad infinitum
yearning for the marching of the drum
No more but so?
we must better learn
to know a hawk from a handsaw
Know a lark from a willow

and a thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases:
it will never pass into nothingness
many a poet are born to feel unseen
No more but so?

sir, I am come to pastoralia
saw the whole world grow from a pomegranate..
Daphnis ego in silvis
memento mori, she’s lost on the moors, miss
a golden beacon raised for you
so you could find your way through

I become the poem
I become immortal
in gaudium, gaudium;
et in arcadia ego
Gaudete!
I’m everywhere
you must dissolve obligation,
in order to let go
No more but so?
O, the things you know..

I am determined to have curiosity
I will be wise, henceforward
I will listen thrice
think more than twice
finding your own voice, is the greatest price
of all
‘tis the way all must go
it’s no more but so

this lives on
gives life to thee
this lives on
gives life to me
Do you see?
come and be,
with me
come and be
be me
be you

wings unseen,
herald’s call
become visible
leave, but stay
ad infinitum
a melody endlessly strum
on the golden lyre
an almost inaudible hum..

olympic flame,
a neverending game
no winners
no losers
only bruises and bouquets

the poet
he is, become infinity
just so, intrinsically
a poet
a human

the most essential balm
and the most vital thing
I’ve found the holy grail
and it resides in the richness of a tale
in the tales we tell,
the poems we read

I write tonight, in golden light
I fight nothing, ‘tis the only thing that’s right
and for once, all is right
I fight nothing, and find everything
in nothing

since time immemorial, I deplore you
be part of this legacy
enter into ecstasy
a rapture..
the rapture
captured in a word
risen from the ink

The purpose of the poet
is to instill wonder
and to open gateways

meaning is predicated on this feeling
for meaning is itself; a feeling
unreeling, so unreeling
I am feeling, always feeling
this one feeling

now I am, become life
not all is bleak on this earth
not all is lost in strife
listen and see
deep within the chaos
you can be free
you; the eye of the storm
and poetry? the way a sanctuary takes form

Je suis née pour ce faire
Detta är mitt syfte
Je suis née pour ce faire..
Detta är min mening

It’s no more but so..