Reverie

Whispered deeds in dark corridors.

Living ears turn cold.

A portrait moves.

A piano plays.

Wicked tales hitherto untold.

Ivory clicks as digits dance

Upon the yellowed keys, 

Which find the tones of discordant hearts;

A beat under animated bones.

Mirror

How far could the light reach down,

If each of our mirrors shone?

How much would the darkness shrink,

If each reflection were a fiery sun?

What would be uncovered,

When the rays dig through the deep?

Where no light has yet set foot.

Where all hope is fast asleep.

Some mirrors may seem too broken;

Damaged beyond repair.

But who are we to judge?

Any light can cut the air.

We ask. We plead. We ponder. 

For we'd desperately love to know.

But wisdom says, be patient.

To keep the light,

We let it go.

Paper castles

Drunk on a splash of power, 

The puppeteers will play, 

Petting their grand delusions, 

Dreaming they can stay.

Yet Time is undefeated.

Just ask a pile of bones.

There is no redemption

For a cabal of callous clones.

So build your paper castles.

Pretend they're made of stone.

The shifting sand will swallow.

The Reaper works alone.

Eluvielle

The rushing river slows

To a smooth, respectful stride

As the Forest's Daughter nears

With her loping and graceful glide.

She sits astride a stone

With her feet above the water.

Her roots reach down to drink;

An honour to nourish the Daughter.

Birds alight to bathe

In the presence of her calm, 

Chirping as they splash; 

Flowers in her palm.

The Grey (pt. 2)

A malevolent mingling of fetid fumes

Conspires beneath the surface,

Peeking out to meet the mist;

An inkling of slithering purpose.

A spirit which grows 

In the damp, 

In the dark,

Finds sentience by an unforeseen spark.

Lusting, it hunts for a physical form...

In the city's bowels, 

New evil is born. 

The Grey (pt.1)

Fog rolls in to fill the street, 

A cool and quiet veil, 

Beyond which unknown movers meet

For whispers in the pale.

Shadow men with foul intent

Shuffle through the grey, 

Hissing threats;

The dead lament.

A city in decay.

Syben Sillo

Between wrinkled brow and smiling cheek

His eyes are deep and bright.

Perched upon the coastal cliffs

He waits until the night.

When moon and star will change the light

To play amongst the waves, 

Which rush to shore, as though in haste, 

To hide inside the caves.

The rhythmic crash of sea on stone;

This sacred ebb and flow, 

Thickens the delicate tether's pulse

As resonance begins to grow.

The wizened monk knows the signs, 

And feels the familiar vibration, 

As the tether roots itself; 

A moment of fear and elation.

In the depths, of his curious mind, 

Seeds begin to sprout. 

Visions bloom on the ocean green;

Spirits of hope and doubt.

A thousand years.

A single night.

The visions flicker and fade.

The stars blink out.

The sky turns pink. 

Birth beyond ocean glade.