Out of the evenstar the bats awaken
The mountains rise against the last throes
of the sun as it blinks out
smothered by the shadows
The darkness creeps beneath the woods
Mist spills like water
over the scented floor
as the ferns and flowers slumber
The stream tapdances over the stones
washing the white lilies
swirling and mixing with
the afterglow of the skies
Not of the fading light
not of the gloamy wisps
comes the flower of my
love, it is lost in
Wandering paths of trodden
pine needles and yellowed
leaves that hiss underfoot
to shush my steps
lest the little birds
awaken in their nests
Scattered my heart is
as the acorns that fall
like the snow of autumn
and I cannot see the way
I release my mind
and it is gone
to find the waters
like a thirsting doe
like a flower whose petals
the winds sweeps and
cradles to the wide sky
to distant shores
Petals pink like the sunset
lifted to the heavens
and gone forever.
And I alone remain
The thorn
Without the rose.
