Words...

-Words-

These shapes and feelings, the efflorescent stealing's of my heart, the rhyme upon the tip of this feathering quill, a skill, deftly stroked upon the soul of another, my lover, whose eternity wraps her arms in the gossamer airs of night, to twinkle through the filigree's of starlight, that play upon the pages of these scripted verses, born for all the ages we have ever known, forsworn by every gratitude to each that was ever grown, a twin heart, beats time within my own. These cymbals of love, that sound upon the parchment with scratchings of earth and fire, resound within a hearth, stoked by the coals of this living desire, mark time, in sweet rhythm upon my heart, the sounding bell upon the depths, from which each feathered dip does swell, to crash upon the shore of every word that sings of this love, and speaks for two, a fusion of rebirth, forever bespoke upon wings reborn, flown between the crashing waves, the smouldering tide, the seething page, fervent words, drawn from out the ink well of this love. Words...

© Richard Michael Parker 2016

Prince

Prince

I think it is also that he left us such beauty, bared his soul and resonated with our own, often in less callous times. Years of hope and tenderness, before the full blush of summers harsh sun had whorled it's wicked way with us. The passing of these iconic personalities, finger scars, or more tremulous hearts than those we may know today, and so too their passing becomes our own, a thousand deaths, passing down passageways we have long since left, yet, indelibly they remain our own, filled with the remnants of all those passing moments, feelings, emotions we have known. An ocean of song, sung in a common soul, though we be different, each drop a part of the whole. In the end, every moment, every emotion meant something to us, and so in passing, perhaps, those emotions that were so vital in that time pass too... for that, though we be grateful for the beauty and shared remembrance, it is hard not to be a little sad. As someone sagaciously said: "We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves."

© Richard Michael Parker 2016