The Lyric’s Unborn

The music trying to catch up with itself

as I sit here in the dark

—a figment of a lost dimension

—a remnant of some other duality

This place becoming a steppingstone

to what is now already gone

and the melody so close, so distant, and so far,

passing through itself to what might have been

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2020)

Vulcanus

The spirit can never be suppressed

its silent essence roars

 

No government or despot’s reign

can change its ethos pure

 

Bottled up the pressure builds,

like Cuba underscored

 

The rhythm faint but always there

—erupting force majeure

 

(Deamsleep: December, 2020)

 

Today’s Gift

Fading in the distance,

 years trapped inside the past

 

The future just beyond our reach,

its vacuum deep and vast

 

Each moment to remind us,

when looking North and South

 

The horse’s mouth will speak the truth

—when present here and now

 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2020)

The Best Thing

To believe or deny,

enlightenment dares

Our lack of acceptance,

a three-legged chair

 

We feel it and breathe it,

and live it for sure

As minds are left gasping

at something so pure

 

At this very point

rejection sets in

Our spirit’s attacked,

the reasoning thin

 

Century upon century

will come and will go

But what can’t be explained

—the best thing to know

 

(Rosemont Pennsylvania: December, 2020)

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Higher Enchantment

Is there anything language

can’t possibly express

 

Words falling short,

all speech in distress

 

Are there concepts so deep,

they cannot be described

 

To experience beyond

any speaker or scribe

 

A higher enchantment,

a deeper enthrall

 

The logic of which

is bereft to recall

 

Expression in handcuffs,

perception moves on

 

Searching the cosmos

—its melody strong

 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2020)