Sometime Else,
There are no questions.
I cut ties and made a leap and discovered whatever was there to find.
Maybe nothing, just an awkward sidestep in what I thought was a dance,
Or a flawless ballet taking place beyond my imagining.

Somewhere Else,
We are walking.
In whatever universe there is that I can reach out for your hand,
Regardless of whether it would be there or not,
Matter and Anti-Matter shadowing each other's footsteps.

In some Universe Else,
If theories are to be believed,
Other me's are with other you's,
Other you's are with still other others,
Until in the great expanse of the possible,
Everyone has loved everyone else,
And I am not left wondering,
All having been answered,
To the ultimate satisfaction of all.

Tinker’s daughter, passing fair,
Storms for eyes and wind for hair,
Whether you shall wither,
Or whither in the weather,
Decisions are for someday-else,
And often not for ever.

Tinker’s daughter, passing strange,
Seeking something, fearing change,
Go and choose a wind that’s blowing,
Let it take you where you’re going,
Some things are for learning now,
And most for never knowing.

Tinker’s daughter, passing time,
Waste no more in riddle-rhyme.
Don the wings you build with dreaming,
Begin with being, end your seeming,
Brave the journey worlds away,
Hearth and home are always beaming.

Tinker’s daughter, passing by
I’m of earth, and you’re of sky
Tinkers come like luck and sorrow,
Here today and gone tomorrow.
You have my heart, but yours I fear,
Was only mine to borrow.

Travelling with Milton

"How came you so wise?" she asked.
How could I tell her?
I have known no true hardship-
No hunger of the belly,
My skin raw to the wind,
My body wracked with the lash
Nor bruised with stones.
No horror in my waking moments past the anguish of us all,
Poised with the knowledge of eventual death.
"How came you so wise?" she asked.
I could not answer her.
'I am none' I want to cry,
'I stumble, chasing after the lights in the darkness'
I have known no true despair-
Wrapped in the cloak of my parent's love,
My sister's care a charm about my neck,
My friendship linked in mail across my heart.
My grandmother encircling my brow with her wings.
No loneliness to sigh its way through my nights,
but the sharp ache of solitude we each feel of our last moment.
"How came you so wise?" she asked
I felt the tears fall steaming on my breast.
Because my rage was deep,
All pain my pain.
I walked the Christ-path, when my youth was slain.
I ate the words of all mankind
as though they were the fruit of truth,
the poison and the pomegranate alike,
Seeking to fill the empty pages of my soul.
I drained the cup of lies,
And at the very bottom of the draught,
I learned the truth.
I wept into the night and begged forgiveness,
For even the smallest sin was as a boulder on my heart.
"How came you so wise?" she asked.
And I answered her thusly-
'One day, I met a youth upon the path,
And without a word he beat me,
Without a sound he broke me,
and I knew the injustice of Strength without Compassion.
The next day, I met a man upon the path,
And without a thought I beat him,
Without a qualm I broke him,
And I knew the sickness of Vengeance without Righteousness.
I rescued the old man from the river,
And berated him for building his house on the other shore-
And cursed myself with the sin of Mercy without Patience.
I lay with the old woman dying,
Feeding her the last of my bread,
And finally knew that Peace came of Loving Sacrifice.
I met a woman upon the path,
Who's face was radiant, who's body shone,
And I learned that the eyes of Jealousy are as blue as my own.
The rains came down, and she crumbled into dust,
And my strong sandals rose her in small clouds about my feet.
I learned Courage was to be alone in the inky black,
And Acceptance without Fear.
Until I came to the gate at the City of Ages.
"Come you in, " they cried from the walls,
"If you are pure!"
And I crossed not the threshold,
Having been both Betrayer and Betrayed.
"Come you in," they called from their palaces,
"If you are learned!"
But I stirred no foot,
For my Ignorance propels my wanderings, and I cannot deny it.
"Come you in," they begged from the streets,
"For you are worthy!"
But I had seen Pride blacken the faces of the Damned,
And strove to cleanse my own with Clarity.
Now we sit in the still light of the morning,
Limbs entangled and dreaming of that place of splendor,
And your dear face turns to me,
Your eyes darken with a question,
Your fingers brush the hair from my eyes,
Confusion from my heart.
"How came you so wise?" you ask,
And I prepare no answer,
Knowing that truth comes from the blank slate,
Not the full one.
I cannot claim it, my love.
Solomon asked for the crown of Wisdom,
And it tarnished in his Pride.
So I clothe myself of my own devising,
Weave garments of love that I give freely off my back,
Baring the scars of my trespasses,
Praying to add no more.
Until the day I can return naked to the City,
And feel no shame at my nakedness,
The marks of the brambles of Eden,
Worn as an honor,
When the gates open at last.

Dreaming on a rainy morning

The midnight rain washes nothing,
but saturates the thin air.
Spreading like water on silk
leaving the night heavy and wet.
It seeps beneath my sleeping eyelids and into my dreams,
Pouring in a racing sheet across the desert,
Flowers growing in a mud rush behind it,
Until the horizon is flooded with meadow.
As I stand on the final rock,
immovable as Excalibur,
my feet smoothed into the shale
as though the artists thumb had pressed down and over the surface in a
firm caress.
Everything grows toward me,
Ribboning across the plain,
Sand weeping softly as the water laps across,
Then groaning with the weight of safflowers.
Until at last, the tide is spent,
stretching one last rivulet toward my rock,
perhaps to release my cracking, mossy feet.
But there is an empty space beside me,
And the scent of coffee,
And all dreams recede into dawn,
Leaving me with nothing
but mist.

A Little Candied Secret

I'm tired of having kaleidoscope eyes, 
Dazzled by half truths and sparkling lies. 
Coloured by radiant fantasy hues;
I'm tired of the rainbow, but sick of the blues.

I thought that the glimmer would lighten the way,
It certainly aided in bearing the day. 
Its tough to be hurt in the light of the view,
To be crying for him with my eyes full of you.

Reality softens when seen through a dream,
Drawing the harshness and bending the beam,
Twisting small hopes into beautiful shapes,
Tunnels of wishes and easy escapes. 

I'm older and wiser, I know that I should
put down such a toy when it does me no good,
But it ever remains and one never denies,
That I saw you once through kaleidoscope eyes.