In the dawn, as light creeps in,
As shadows fade on skin to skin,
The groan still lingers, soft and sweet,
Upon one breathing, tender beat.
In the cool of day, when bodies part,
Still beats the rhythm of a single heart.
Though distanced, we are as one,
Bound by what the night had spun.
In the unending echo of my thoughts, you reside,
An artist who paints on the expansive canvas of my mind.
Threads of reason unravel, thoughts dance in an uncontrolled sway,
And from this chaotic ballet, a melody of madness begins to play.
In solitude’s shadow, I walk alone,
A self-imposed exile from all I’ve known.
My truth, enclosed within sternest stone,
In fear of ever being shown.
In quest of life’s grand purpose, here I muse,
Upon this earthly stage, where all must play;
Each heart in search of truth, in time does choose
The path it walks, beneath night or day.
A traveller in a labyrinth of unending rise,
Each step a mystery, each floor a disguise.
Pursued by a ghoul, relentless and dire,
His only respite, to endlessly aspire.
Doors he’s opened, realms explored,
Yet always, the stairs are restored.
Back to the climb, his inescapable fate,
Through doors of chance, or those that wait.
Some yield to kindness, some to might,
Others remain sealed, despite the fight.
Doors untried, secrets they keep,
While open ones passed as if asleep.
For respite, he enters doors ajar,
Seeking sustenance, near and far.
In the stairwell’s grip, he cannot rest,
Lest the terror behind completes its quest.
Weariness grips, his pace now slowed,
The shriek behind of dread and forebode.
Yet on he must go, in this stairway’s embrace,
Seeking an end to the relentless chase.
Beware the doors, lined in rows,
Each a story, each a pose;
Tempting knocks, with promises spun,
Yet in their frame, a journey’s undone.
For in this trip of life, so vast and wild,
Lose not yourself, nor be beguiled.
Resist the lure, of treatment unkind,
In the strength of true self is the peace you’ll find.
Return to the road, let soul be your guide,
In the passing of life, let your spirit preside.
Berries, bright as blood upon the snow,
Speak of life amidst the deathly white,
A symbol of the warmth that embers show,
When winter logs burn and hearts alight.
When life challenges what we think we know,
And casts old certainties into the sea,
We find our truest self begins to grow,
In new realms of endless possibility.
The mirror of the soul reflects but a part
of truths we hold as constant and as dear;
Yet openness of mind and depth of heart
reveals a world where nothing is quite clear.
Our lives are adventures on this earth,
With tales of mystery and unknown ends;
Each step a part of the universe’s birth,
In this grand play where time and space extends.
So embrace the unknown with a fearless heart,
For in that leap, life’s truest stories start.
In lonely fields, where silent thoughts tread,
Many a soul, in quiet, walks alone.
Even in love, where hopeful words are said,
Deep understanding remains unknown.
The transient thrill of passion’s early light,
When faded, leaves a deeper, lonelier night.
Within the silent theatre’s sleeping walls,
Does an echo of performance dare to dwell?
When no soul in the darkened chamber calls,
Does art, unseen, still cast a vibrant spell?
A lone ballerina’s pirouette,
Spun with the grace of whispered solitude,
Exists as truly as the sun does set,
Though no eyes will judge the view.
For art, when unobserved, retains its form,
As does the nightingale’s unheard refrain;
It needs no gaze to validate its norm,
Nor applause to justify its pain.
Thus, though unknown, the act remains pure,
The essence, born of hope and love, endures.
Robert Walker 