In his arms 

In his arms 

A moment will do

No amount of time could remedy this love that lingers for you

Two years gone by without realising how or why did he become the apple of my eye

In his arms 

For the briefest of moments as the world evaporates and nothing is left 

In his arms

Only human after all and unrequited something is a funny thing 

Face to face, eyes linger over mine, question erupt like a dozen fireworks on the 4th of July sky

Call me a sweetheart, watch my heart suddenly stop 

Climb upon of the highest mountain just to find air to breath

It all left the room when he glanced in my direction

Who allowed such a work of artistic perfection 

Nothing could ever compare to that stare

In his arms 

The sounds of sirens and alarms fades to nothingness

In his arms

Just a minute longer 

But the moment is gone

No remedy at hand

Too much to comprehend and demand

In his arms

Life complete 

The rest is obsolete 

Time to abandon and withdraw

Resign and let it go

In his arms in the briefest of moments, and then it’s gone forevermore.

Yet here I sit, filled with his voice and face in my head, keeping me from going to bed. 

In his arms 

Let me be

Don’t need anything else

Not even as the sun starts to rise

Still unable to go to bed

Listen to my heart and it lead me to he, along with the country of origin that made him a noble majesty.

In his arms

No need to raise the alarms 

Abandon ship and let it be 

In his arms 

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Window 

Looking out the window from the highest floor in the building,

Nighttime lights setting the rain soaked street a gleaming, little puddles are sparking as the reflective light bounces off the in a calming white hue.

Watching the cars and people going on by, keen to stay out of the rain and get dry

It cannot be helped if the sky has decided to have a good cry.

The window makes a good distraction from the indecision ruling heart and head, keeping everything at bay, like it went for a vacation instead.

Fingers tapping on the half filled mug of tea, the aroma and steam adds a calming fuel to an overworked brain, nobody ever said this would be such an energy drain.

Indecision has got some skilful precision in how it dominates and rules, making us distracted to the point we feel like fools.

Looking out of the window, sitting crossed legged on the floor, a blanket as the cushion for my seat, it’s all silent and discrete, minus the traffic outside, a thing that is my city’s pride.

The indecision carries on, ticking away in the mind, flip a coin or pick a card, the options are there, it should not been that hard.

The reflection through the window, gets the curiousity going again, to go with the heart, and let the brain take it easy for a change, but it’s the brain that protects us from our hearts getting in trouble when reason goes out of the window.

In the ways there are only two, and even that seems like too much to handle when it comes to the solution, the answer to question that won’t go away, spending so much time leading the mind astray. 

The raindrops on the window continue to trickle down, reflecting the city lights as they go, at least they know the set direction of their flow.

Heart ruling the brain, and brain ruling the heart, if only someone could take this decision and let the responsibility depart.

All this indecision and the need for clarity mixed with precision.

Yet here I will sit, contemplating which path to take, watching the world go by through the rain soaked window in a temporary bid to escape. 

It’s way past my bedtime 

It’s way past my bedtime

But your smile is keeping me awake 

Shining bright and as warm as the morning sunrise

The way the corners of your mouth curl up and crease 

Exposing big cheeks and setting alight the sparkle in the kindest eyes

Lingering within some sort of surprise 

The possibilities are endless and shall surely result in a demise 

All in this sleepless of night 

And all for one singular prize

It’s way past my bedtime 

still I linger on year after year wishing you would cease and be dismissed

If you weren’t real, merely a character of some wonderous literary creation

Providing the professors with the source material of perfection and true appeal

Time has always been yours to steal, in the blink of an eye and it’s almost one in the morning,

It’s way past my bedtime

The blankets are warming and inviting with the darkness filled with comfortable slumbers

And yet still I lie here and wonder about what is meant to be

Will there be an event involving matrimony to the tune of a pleasant symphony

As the moon lingers in the middle of the ocean, and the dancers on the beach are about to jump in the air, celebrating this event without a worry or care, love after all is a glorious affair

It’s way past my bedtime 

In wide awake reality or in pleasant slumbers the weight of your presence outnumbers the many other things possible to dream

My mind was prestine once, with little or no desire for anything at all

Once it was attempted but it turned out to be a terrible thing and was quickly dismissed, though attempts were made to restart the foolishness, realisation followed too late

But now standards are present and they linger in your very name, setting an example of an impossible dream, foolish to expect or anticipate 

The characters standing atop that cake are nothing more than an illusion, of what will never be given my disposition 

It’s way past my bedtime 

Still your are on my mind

The smile and those eyes, the nature of your ways leaving us all in a haze for several daze

Who permitted you to be this way? When the end result is a deluded happiness without any gains

It’s all part of your irresistible ways

The clock ticks on and on

Heavy lidded eyes and a mind half expecting the sunrise 

It’s way past my bedtime and still I lie here thinking of you

A month or six, even a year could go by, but still my mind thinks on you, and even sees similarities in others, but never again to be seen in you

It’s way past my bedtime 

But your smile keeping me awake… 

Blank Canvas 

“Sometimes something can be so beautiful that the only way to truly express appreciatation for it is to paint it on a blank canvas.” 
Left the coffee too long and now it’s going cold 

The scent is still there though lingering in the air with hours to go

Amongst the books that line the walls and fabrics carpeting the floor

The blank canvas standing upright in nothing but empty whiteness 

Out of politeness or an impulse to express the emotions away with colors, time was lead astray 

I could take the sparkles from the stars, the colors from Jupiter and Mars, questioning the Milky Way on the journey, for a reason or a rhyme, even both would be perfectly fine

I could take all the adjectives in the world to explain the phenomenon that is you, but none of them would do justice to what would adequately describe, enough to take wonder and pride 

The blank canvas is calling for you to reside, every detail highlighted and revealed, impossible to conceal what is commonly felt, a timeless masterpiece on repeat never to deplete

Unearthly wonder giving much to ponder as the coffee gets even more cold and the lamp lights fade with sleepiness, still the canvas needs to be filled and beauty to be preserved

Begin with the brush strokes to and fro, green and gold for the eyes, and a light mellow brown for the skin tone, perhaps a few lines to make up the curious frown 

At this point it was better to have started this whilst sitting down

The face complete and now for the crown of different tones black into brown

Almost complete minus a some extras, all it is worth in the place of perfection

The blank canvas is complete now a colorful masterpiece not because of the painting, oh no,

But for the portrait of the figure who was the true masterpiece all along…

Which way to go…

Remember a day filled with unknown nerves

Those little tingles in the abdomen that would distract us from duties and demands

Like the head of an military base, sending our emotions into a battle whilst looking in the mirror, sharpen decisions swinging to and fro, not knowing which way to go.

They would clash together and the sound was something quite profound, the impact so very loud without even making a sound.

The concrete beneath my feet felt like it was about to disintergrate, each and every breath filled with too much to antispate, and the mind constantly debating between decisions to and fro, not knowing which way to go.

From the front door to the campus halls, only one examination to go, but the mind has already departed, to the playground with the swinging penedulum where decisions reside, going to and fro not knowing which way to go.

Clock stricks five in the afternoon, the darkness of the night is looming over the day, the moon on its’ way.

There is no time to delay, a decision has been made to avoid it all, yet still not knowing which way to go.

From the bus station stop to the platform of a train station or two, miles away from home already, smooth and steady, no time to get ready.

Change stations and reach a cross in the heart of a city escape, the sights and sounds surrounding as the decisions one or two continue to battle to and fro, not knowing which way to go.

The walking turns to running, passed the people and the cars, passed the billboards and the tempting glowing lights, oh what a sight.

Up and down the streets, going to and fro, still not knowing which way to go

Perhaps the decision was best to just not to go, nothing will be missed and it shall all be a lonesome affair filled

Turn away or go through it all the way, to and fro, not knowing which way to go

A glance at the phone that glows with a guiding map and reveals an unexpected sight

Indescision swinging to and fro, knowing exactly which way to go

Steps turn into sprints, through the bustling crowds and revolving doors, not knowing which way to go

Up the stairs, unaware and ill-prepared, a coat trailing on the floor 

It’s all for a good cause that will be worth it all

Grab the door handles and swing them open and closed, the time has come it has been supposed

The room is found but all the lights have gone out, look around but there is only blackness to be found, not a whisper or a sound

Mind is reeling, decisions swinging to and fro, not knowing which way to go
The grab of a hand and sudden motion of turning around, to the only way that could ever be decided, like a breath without end, as you say those three words that make the indecisions all disappear, forgotten because of your whisper of “I am here”.

And finally the time has come to know exactly which way to go.

He sings…

Before the moment which came to pass

That immersed us all admire in Saint Cecilia’s patronage

The figure stands in humble tribute to her, quiet, reserved, yet profound

He sings…

Before the moment which came to pass,

Clouds were gathering accompanied by shadows, dark and foreboding

Happiness and elation begin to erode

Deflation and melancholy corrosion

No light shines in the blackening day as the sun is engulf in the clouds without any leeway

Prosperity and serenity wither away

As time continue to serve at the aid of life’s decay

A singular event comes to pass out of the blue

No time given to fathom or prepare

The moment arose when the residence began to murmur in astonishment when

He sings…

The single source to devastate all that caused despair and steadily commence repair

He sings…

All is erased without a single care through the resonance of a sound, steady and profound

Impossible to prepare, no more can be done but to stop and stare

The patron standing humble and unseen, just for the shadows that linger in curiousity

All craving to gaze upon what remains hidden without notice or care

He sings…

As the gathering clouds are dispersed with the dark, lightless day at its’ heels

He may sing of love, or of a dance to a joyous chorus, whatever it is the reception is always causing a rousing appreciation, whether speechless or filled with uniting songs, the devotion is same, like that of the earth and the ocean, as he sings…

The voice is low and resonance deep within the core, whether be it he may sing Anema e Core or of some Grand Amore , the residence within earshot shall remain, for a time-being, on the floor in awe

He sings… all that and nothing more.

Till dusk comes and the streetlight set his city alight

Leaving all in such delight as the moment came to pass when he began to sing…banner2

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Snow is Falling

The snow is falling, setting a picturesque scene of a cold paradise

Every crack concealed in sparkling white, setting the eyes to delight at the sight
The midday sun hovers over the hills and trees once green, a luxury to be seen
Everything set a glow in a wintery haze set to amaze and cause peace and chaos
So much fuss and much to discuss, plans changed and agendas rearranged
The snow is falling, the tree branches bow in honor and respect, as though in anticipation
Of more to come, for this cannot be the end to winter’s enchantment
The weight is heavy over the fragile floor
Nothing more to uphold
Amongst the grumples and celebrations, of plans changed and agendas rearranged
Comes something rather strange, impossible to engage, the movements come quick and fast
Surely it is not something that will last
The snow is falling from the trees, cascading upon the shivering ground as the mountain tops quiver No sight or sounds surround what will become impossible to predict, like that of a wicked trick
The ground shivers and shakes
All falls silent and still awaiting the inevitable cascade of winter to fall from those hills
The knees of a town shiver and shake, oblivious to what has taken place
All is quiet and all is still
The snow is falling over the newly formed hills, concealing the aftermath of the once dancing ground
Profound and precise, nobody and nothing could have predicted, the stage that set the hills and Grounds to shake, a tumultuous act of nature or perhaps it was fate
Not unknown to these parts, and yet so quickly all begins to fall apart
And yet the snow is falling
Quiet and still
Unseen sights concealed in winter’s might, out of the way from protection, rescue or salvation.
The sun fades behind the clouds no longer glowing and proud
The snow is falling on the ground
And nobody is making a sound
Apart from one soul hidden far away
Tucked beneath a quintessential hillside in a village
Known to many and yet not seen often
On his travels in the sky
Taking flight when the need arises
Yet during the chaos of a nature’s demise
It is he that rises in the aftermath to alert and raise awareness of what has been done
For this is no time for foolishness and fun
The snow is falling on the ground
Yet the unseen figure, quiet and small, is up making the only sound
The rescuers come
The people begin to hear
And all commence in  clearing away what winter has done
Soon the silence will be broken as the survivors began to cheer
Have no fear, the unseen soul, quiet and small, is hear to listen and clear away
All that winter has brought on this cold January day.