A Damsel Of The Night

Rare is the night,
and the painted sea
in blue and white
and ripples of grey
when the moon alone is restless,
adrift in his aura, translucent;
a crimson delight
is spread on the waves
and a damsel from the ocean's depth
comes floating gently on the moon's rays

The milk of paradise rains.
The damsel draped in silken robes
of the moonlight spinning around,
filtering through her fingers, her hands raised to receive the grace.
From the horizon far
where the sun's fire is burning still,
leap the flames and mingle with her tresses;
The humming of the ocean stops
in the crescendo
as the moonbeams fall on the cosmic thigh
of the maiden with her hands raised

Image source unknown

Silence Is not Peace

Walking, I had to bend,
to remove a thorn that gently pricked.
A nostalgia, an empty bench.
A winding road...A distilled memory at every bend.
Though a path is trodden every day,
though the silence breathes,
though the wood in a silence wraps me around,
silence is not peace.

21 Dec. 2016

Image credit: francisco javier Lozano Martinez

Paseando ,nostalgia, y recuerdos