Beneath the Weeping April Moon

A haunting tale, a bittersweet refrain, Love’s embered ashes, haunting heart and brain. Forsaken for a soul deemed more refined, A wounded spirit, tempest-tossed and blind. Moon, spectral witness to my soul’s despair, Your silvered gaze, a phantom’s haunting stare. Here, tears like rivers carved in lunar sand, A desolate heart, a withered, barren land. Can madness bloom in reason’s barren field? My spirit, a wounded bird, its wings concealed. O, Moon, your glow, a mournful, silvered sea, Where shattered dreams drift aimlessly. A cradle once of laughter, warmth, and grace, Now echoes chamber of a lost embrace. Your light, a dagger piercing through the night, Revealing shadows, cold and desolate sight. A prisoner of longing, hope’s frail art, A captive heart, torn asunder from the start. Can stars betray, or is it just my mind, A twisted maze where sanity’s confined? I search for solace in your silent gleam, Yet find but echoes of a vanished dream. A phantom lover, haunting every breath, A phantom life, suspended in the death Of what once was, a paradise of yore, Now barren wasteland, forevermore. Your fullness mocks the emptiness inside, A cosmic mirror, where lost souls abide. I yearn for dawn, to break this endless night, Yet fear the sunlight’s piercing, cruel light. So let me linger in your soft embrace, A mournful specter in this mournful space. And when the morning comes, with its harsh glare, May shadows shield me from despair.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

chemo

Image
  The chemo cocktail churns, a metallic serpent coiling in my gut, its venom rising, a bitter tide. The sterile air, a canvas for the symphony of beeps, a haunting counterpoint to the hollowness inside. My reflection mocks from the steel embrace of the chair, a gaunt caricature, eyes hollowed, skin the hue of despair. Each breath a labored rasp, a dry leaf skittering on stone, as the serpent writhes, promising oblivion's unknown. Sleep, a fragile escape, crumbles into a twisted dream. A figure cloaked in midnight strides across the barren plains, his scythe a crescent moon, casting an inky sheen on the cracked and thirsty earth, mirroring my ravaged veins. The Grim Reaper, eyes smoldering embers in the gloom, a silent judge, his gaze a pronouncement of impending doom. His skeletal hand reaches, cold and sure, to claim my soul, but a spark of defiance flares, a flicker to regain control. I lunge, a frail wisp against the night's cold embrace, but the figure fades, leaving on...
Read more

My wife was only 32 when she died of metastatic breast cancer

Image
It was only 5 years after we found a lump in her breast.  She was a laboratory technologist in the hospital lab at the time and our medical insurance was good.  To give her the best chance, they gave her both chemotherapy and radiation to the area where the tumor had been found after surgery.  Our son was 1 1/2 years old at the time of the diagnosis and spent a lot of time at his grandmother's house during her treatments.  I went with her each time she received chemo and went through her nausea and vomiting with her after each course. In time they tattooed a tiny dot on her breast in order to guide the radiation to the right area and completed the radiation treatments.  She began recovering and within months had returned to her job at the lab. We both raised our son and went about our lives, hopeful. They did tests for tumor markers monthly without apparent return of the cancer.  One day, 5 years from the beginning she felt bad and was hospitalized. The tum...
Read more

Magic Carpet Ride

Image
 Let me take you on a magic carpet ride No silken carpet, stitched by hands unknown, But woven moonlight on a phoenix's down. With whispers of magic, we'll ascend the sky, Where stars like diamonds dance and planets sigh. Through emerald valleys, where dragons sleep, And crystal rivers secrets keep. On winds of laughter, past castles untold, With stories blooming, braver than gold. We'll chase shooting stars across the night, Their fiery whispers our guiding light. Past hidden waterfalls, where sirens sing, And wishes take flight on gossamer wing. No jeweled palace, but a moonlit bower, Where fireflies light each fragrant flower. With hearts entwined, beneath the Milky Way, We'll write our own love story, come what may. This magic we create, unseen, unheard, A tapestry woven with every shared word. So let us dance on stardust, wild and free, For the truest magic lies in you and me. With brushes dipped in dreams, we'll paint the sky, Our souls entwined, as colors dan...
Read more