Your Golden Call

Another piece of me falls for you
Another part of my soul falls in you
My paper heart set to flight by an autumn wind
At the behest of your golden call

Waiting for the best part of half a lifetime
Keeping lit the flame in the old lantern
And watching the night-shrouded wood
Listening nightly for your golden call

I do not know where I belong
I do not know what to do with this love in me
This gift of embers and summer's seeds
A paltry patchwork of a story longing to be told

I would sound the horns of war for you
Or infuse wintering peace in inflamed men
Rewrite the tomes of victors' histories
Just to have your sword buried in me

This light in me, this convection deep in me
Desires a world unto itself, realised by your love
For the ever-winter night to fade at long last
And I unleashed by your golden call

M.M. — 17-Jul-2016

Living Storms

Kings and queens of our time
Princes of the universe
And princesses as regal as stars
We were all of these and more

And we were nothing
Specks and dust wiped aside
At a whim of a mercurial child

We were halves, short of a whole
And yet everything we ever wanted to be

Because when the sun kissed our cheeks
And the moon lit up our eyes
We were chosen
Chosen to live this way
Either in pain, or in joy
But chosen to live nonetheless

What are we if not storms
Turbulent and ever-changing
Destined for some unknown end
But alive! Alive!

We are nothing
And yet we are everything

M.M. — 15-Jul-2016

The Child and the Star

The child sought to climb the oldest oak
To scale the first sprout of the earth
Enwrap himself with its deep roots

Then when she fell from the sky
In a sphere of celestial making
He felt the pulse beat in his chest

But all is ever lost in the din of the world

Years of creating a cartograph of the stars
To construct a bridge from one realm to another
To find, once again, the pulse
The oscillation within the cosmic noise

She was it all, this star from the start of time
Who came down from much higher than the earth's oak

A sphere and a gift—the only thing he knew to be true
Lost forever in the din of a stunted world

M.M. — 10-Jul-2016

Depression (Iteration 4)

You've paid every cent of hell
While laid down in a wretched cell

Given all of yourself to nothingness
To a nameless face in darkness

Trust me when I say there's another way
That dawn brings salvation with every new day

Just pick yourself up and rise like the sun
Burning bright, in the night, and take what comes

Staring into the mirror and see a face in pain
But showing nothing of the blood long stained

Peel at the cracks, straighten your back
And steel yourself for the coming attack

There's a heat deep in your torn heart
Something just begging for a start

A chance to live, a chance to fight
A chance to do yourself right

Year upon year, you count all your wrongs
But how many times have you proved yourself strong?

This blood, your blood, streams through
Will keep you filled, keep you alive, and make you new

And when all is dead and all is done
And when you find the darkness gone

You will see that you were always free
Just like you've always meant to be

M.M.  — 04-Jul-2016

"Up from cracked earth"

Up from cracked earth
Root of evil, vine of sin
Fallen stars with burnt wing
Shadow and soil and storm

Unmasked with shattering crown
While defiling the seed
And dissecting the creed
Come forth from nothingness

Minds of meek men
Cowardly in the light
Cowering in the night
Lifeless in their shells

Through aeons of dogma
First of hell, then of heaven
Like tempest of golden leaven
Rebirthed to cataclysm

Portals of time once askew
Now corrected and set aright
With the gateways now abright
Come forth, birthing from the earth

M.M. — 30-Jun-2016

"Whirling somewhere"

Whirling somewhere

Up there, there in the night

In the dark of the night

I was drawn to you

Starshine lighting the void

Mind filled with fiery sparks

Portals opened in your eyes

I was drawn to you

Bursts of light, births of stars

So far, so far, up there in the night

Careering elements set aflame

The same that pierced my heart

The same that drew you to me

Just rotations of light

Of stars shining, at the dawn of time

Somehow, somewhere, sometime

I had you, you and I, you were mine

Once upon, when time was not time

Up there, where space stretched

And coalesced our minds

In my hands, in my eyes

Fire and light and time

And you, and you, and you and I

Lost up there, in the night

Just you and me, free of time

Frozen, in motion, on fire

In the light, in the void

Just how it first was, and always was

When something drew me to you

Just rotations of light

Just us, in starshine

 

M.M. — 28-Jun-2016

"They raised themselves"

They raised themselves to
the purest of all falsehoods.
Just as they raised their guns
to commit the impurest of acts.
With no sight in their sights
but black and white and crimson.
They brought nothing to the world,
and only took away its light.
How brave they thought themselves,
to deal in death, never courageous
enough to come to the table of life.
And as the flowers cried and died
the men in white castles prattled on.
But they only killed themselves.
They only ever kill themselves.

M.M. — 13-Jun-2016

"Death risen from the grave"

Death risen from the grave
Life that extinguishes every beginning
Imperial star shining pure darkness
The void cradling the spark of creation

What came forth from nothing
Became the patchwork of the universe
Dreams assembled from logic
A nightmare construed as a fantasy

The dreamless, the lifeless
The deathless, the less-than-nothing
What came forth from the universe
Became the masterwork of the end

M.M. – 05-Jun-2016

Goodness

Goodness in a man comes in measures and portions. Each ounce a piecemeal attempt to balance his actions and deeds. What goodness apportioned him he loves till he can love it no more. And when love of it is lost he becomes an empty container, a vessel seeking a power of equal worth. But how can he gauge worth in something when he himself is bereft of all that is worthy? Yes, goodness is poured into a man, and he sups of himself because it is all that he has, in truth. In truth goodness—to be good—is so easily stolen, or so easily squandered. I would give away all my goodness just to feel nothing of its grace, to feel nothing of its guilt. Goodness becomes in a man a curse of his own making. Goodness becomes in a man a meaningless plaque and a bespoke commemoration so self-exalted that its ideal is a joke. Show me a man's goodness and I will show you a carafe that can never be filled.

"I went down to the river"

I went down to the river one afternoon, down to the waters cold as ice and old as time. I went to drink, and I went to know. Kneeling down I took a moment and I peered at the stream, and watched it course, ripple, bubble, turn and shift as it went. Cupping both hands I scooped a portion of its life and I drank. I drank and drank again. But nothing came to me. I looked at my hands, and just wondered at them. I scooped once more but this time I let the water seep through my fingers. I watched this, the waters freeing themselves of me, returning to stream. So it was that I realised that I came for the wrong reason. I had asked the wrong question. Instead, I realised at that moment that everything I held up to that point could not be held forever in my hands. And what I could keep indefinitely was not to be held but felt -- remembered -- loved. I was not meant to keep these things; I was not meant to think them mine. They were meant to course, ripple, bubble, turn and shift as they went. Just as I was meant to.

M.M.