Chasing the sun

Chasing the sun
Chasing the moon
The shortest day of the year
The longest 24 hours.
Two days travel in one,
It’s only Starting.

I saw it all
A distinct path to happiness
She showed me it was all an illusion
Things never to be.

I slept the night
Chasing Dreams.
I awoke this morning,
And found I had none.

It is home.
It is not.
It is far away.
It is not.
So much found un-needed,
So much needed no found.

Through the day,
Under the moon.
A train ride to some place new.
Am I exploring,
or am I running?
A desire becomes reality ,
While another slips away.

The train heads west.
At early morning,
Across Austria,
Into Switzerland,
Slowly I head home.

A welcome break
A reminder of days gone by
A call back home.

Is it what I left?
Am I going back?
A return to the familiar,
But will it ever be the same?

Around the world,
I chased the sun,
I chased the moon,
I ended where I started,
A wiser fool.

Reflections of Marlow

This one is now a couple years old. But still like it and miss that cat.

I wish I knew
How much time we were allowed
But would I treasure it more?
Would I savor each moment?
Or would I curse the countdown?
Would I have missed out on life?
Or would I miss him less?

He came into my life
Purred his way to my heart
Gone too soon
He reminded me of peace
His loyalty was unsurpassed

Such a small cat
Yet the hole you leave was so big
Your absence claws at my heart
I long for your company

You passed too soon
I would have always said that
I savor the memories you left
I await when our paths will cross again

The Gardens

The Saj-graf gardens are large enough that there are many corners that allow a respite from the city and let one forget about the thousands of people in the city. The path ways are such that if you know where to turn you could have a small clearing to yourself. Though they started off as well manicured gardens for the Whistrach Estate, over the years they have expanded and enveloped additional city blocks as either the mayor or lords felt.

The Whistrach Estate lays somewhere in the maze of trails, currently used as a greenhouse by the Erush Order. The perimeters of the gardens are maintained by the city these days and certain endeavors are made by families to periodically bring order to regions of the gardens. Yet the gardens themselves have pushed back and there are areas within most folk know better than to go. In these areas one would think animals would thrive, yet they too have determined they should keep their distance.

Stories are that people have been buried in these parts of the gardens. Other people tell of ghosts or spirits that haunt the place. It is in one of these spaces Zahar sits and waits for his meeting with Lord Elwin. He does not like meeting Elwin alone as he always fears the Lord may no longer favor him. Zahar sits quiet, in a corner, like a well discipline child waiting to be given freedom to move. As far back as Zahar can recall this is how he has always waited to see Lord Elwin. If he knew how to, Zahar would curse and confront Lord Elwin for his late arrivals.
Meanwhile in another part of the garden, Kadin walks pondering things that have building. Kaisu has been spending more time around Maeve and they have grown secretive about their latest project. He wonders if it was wrong of him not to let Ertle at least meet Kaisu a few years back, she would have been well cared for. Sudeman was to return this next month and he is curious on the man’s take on things.
It was during his walk in the garden Kadin met a lady who approached him. “I am Captain Katranna of the Ardent Order. I am looking for one of my men, have you seen anyone else this evening?”

“No, you are the first person I have seen this evening. It is late and most are at home,” responded Kadin. “Perhaps I may walk with you for a bit if we are headed in the same direction. I could use an opinion not my own on something.”

Katranna replied, “It may be short, but I see no reason not to. Depending on where you are headed, it may be slightly safer for both of us.”


Calm, quiet, intent, slowly working the yarn
Patiently weaving creations without a thought
You work your own beauty into each creation
The choice in colors, contrasting and harmonizing
Another pile of yarns and a handful of days
Their function transformed in your hands
A delicate weave providing fashion and warmth
Or another creation to entertain its new owner

The Dance

I have often disliked the dance.
Too much to do.
A delicate move here,
And slight mistakes ruin it all.

Again and again,
All that should be done
And nothing can be.

Don’t you know?
They can only do as much as you,
Each move decides the next.
A wrong choice?
It doesn’t matter.
The next move is all that can be changed.

Dance with me.

Do you see?
I want to learn this dance,
But we aren’t good teachers.
Each partner changes the dance.

So you sit and watch others.
But you cannot learn,
The beauty draws you in.
No longer are you watching,
But yearning.

The dance is deadly.
It will snare you,
And bring you the best and worst.
It will intoxicate you,
And leave you needing more.

Were you there?
When the dance started?
Or do you forget?

You too will have a turn.
But it always starts when you aren’t looking.
And leaves without a word.

How could you have known?

The truth?
I hate to dance.
Leave it all and never again.
But its too late,
I have been drawn in.