the endless sea

for Susan
and those who have lost a love
death defeats only those who forget



bowed low beneath the onset of the north wind,
shuddering,
the sweet banshee’s howls scrape at the heavy moon low on the horizon,
drifting upon the sea
the scent of Bermudan flowers on the gales
a taste from far away
amid the torments of the pounding rain
into the endless sea of fear…

the loneliness is deep-rooted in cold soil
dawning
drowning
a darkness that cultivates a life in repose
the rain hides the tears in staring eyes
the halo of hair kiting on the sea of stars
reflection of the endless sea of fear….

we are mocked by foolish storms
the sky’s filled chalice runneth over
weeping
seeping
the day lost to the dreams of night
everything and everyone lies below the endless waves
sweeping
waving
in the endless sea of fear...

when it cuts,
deep as pain
lightning flash
falling
shattering
thunder…
then the tranquility of emptiness
the endless sea of fear…

thought in perpetual dead reason.
the blade kisses the night
there is no life for me watching the sea
waiting for he
this is no life for me watching the sea
waiting for he
the tears that i have bleed for thee
into the endless sea of fear…

and of love?
the harvest is a dark pool of blackness
ripping
dripping
devilish and cruel
forever in the night waiting
the rush of the dream is the sweetest pain
the clock is made of flowing tides
the endless sea of fear
helpless
endless
lonely

My Creations

The truth of our lives has always been fiction.

Which explains all the insanity that goes around… because when you start to believe your own lies… that is insane. This makes life as a creative writer hell, because the characters we create come alive in our heads and are constantly telling you their stories so that you will write them.



Thank the Gods that there is a place where you can not only get those characters out of your head, but you can put them in homes so that you can go visit them.

One of mine at Pan Historia...