Where children play, and lions rest...

I believe
there is a heaven, where all is well, where all are blessed.

Where children play, and lions rest,
where rivers flow of mead,
where no one is troubled, with hardship and test.

To some this may be a fantasy, a story, a perfidy,
concocted by the ancients'history

Be that as it may,
I rest my mind and pin my hope
on that beautiful place and yearn
for my eternal stay.

Rage, rage, rage

Rage, Rage, Rage...

The fires of my wrath that swell within me,
dare not spill out of the kiln of my burning heart.

I am not in my element, except...
but, for when the flames that engulfs me
from within and outward.

For only,  if it was your touch,
that would quell my torment,
I would be at bliss.
But it is not to be...

This summer's blaze is lonesome and cold,
in measure to what I feel within me,
the kindling of my hopes, the smoldering of my dreams, the withering of my love.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it will die out on it's own,
or perish me with it.

Love, Oh Love...

Love, Oh Love.

Oh joyful sorrowful painful beautiful love.
That which renders me peaceful love,
That, makes me hateful love,
That which keeps me watchful love.

Oh dreadful love,
How cruel you can be.
That, which wrought the wrathful love,
That, which gave me immeasurable joy,
yet took it all away in a moment's folly

Oh careful love,
Tread on my heart carefully,
for I am helpless against your charms.

Oh lustful love,
Full of rapture and want.
You beacon me once,
and I answer your call a thousand times.

Leave me not in this state of anguish and melancholy,
Hate me not, with your villainy and perfidy.
All I ask is for your company to keep,
All I savor is your favor.
Stay with me now and forever,
and make me eternally grateful, Love.

Avagavan

I am royal, in my own right. I care not for a crown nor throne.

the rage, the passion that burns within me, a self made danger zone.

I have seen sights and heard sounds unknown, by the many young and old of past foregone.

my lives a many, I recall, a man, a woman, a tree, a stone.

I am born, I live I die and am reborn.

Though pen and parchment may run out

Though pen and parchment may run out, I will write my tales of woe and awe,

on scraps of barks, on blades of straw,

I shall write of old men and maidens fair, of withered flesh and beautiful hair and know,

How these stories go,

far be it for me to throw

the first stone or a foible arrow.

Upon he who dare err, for it is too human.

and suffer the consequences of that might,

Know that I bare, 

my soul for all to see, 

my heart, my mind resolute in reason.

Alone as the night rumbles....

Alone as the night rumbles on
and the clocks tick
I ponder,
head pounding heart thumping soul shaking thoughts.

Thoughts of what has passed, what is in the now, what is yet to come.
What could have been, what should be, what ought to be.

You read my hand, and told me to think from my heart, to trust what I feel thank what I think and know to be true.

How can I, how do I...

How do I find the inner peace, the solace I crave, the intimacy i yearn to embrace with you around me.

I fear so much, so much that I make fear, fear itself.

Yet in your presence, with you near me, I can conquer the insurmountable.