Untitled - March 16, 2001

Renga #2 - An Exchange of Poetry Between CAS and I

As harsh winter turns away 
from the warmth of Spring,
the ice floes begin to thaw
once more,
running heedlessly
to the sea.
 
Spring thaw 
bring with them
flash floods,
just waiting for that moment
where the coolness beyond the ice
reflects the cold depths within.

				the the warmth
				also thaws
				the coldest of hearts
				so that
				the first bloom of love
				may peak it's head out
				for the first time of the year.

Even as the day warms,
the evenings are still cool.

The frost that glistens on
all the branches that lay barren
melt away every morning
but return every night.

				Entwined hearts
				forever bound
				feel not the cold.

				The warmth
				of the love
				keeps the cold demons
				at bay for forever and a day.

Forever is a word
beyond the merest measure
where what lasted forever
was but a day.

What melts without
but not within
leaves a chill
upon the air.

				A heart measures
				not in time, but
				the life it leads.
				
				A chill within
				can lead to a
				warmth without.

				The grey wisps
				lead us through
				to a world of
				unknown passions.

What life is lead
but the empty one.

What bleeds from a cut
but the sorrows
from cruel words.

What moves us through
from this world to the next
but for unknowing.

				The empty life is lead
				towards the happiness
				that awaits it.

				The scars in life
				hold in
				the hard won joys and sorrows.

				Unknowing and Unseeing
				are but two curses
				that are feared.

				The true and noble heart fears them not
				it moves from realm to realm
				learning life's lessons.

Happiness is an elusive goal
that remains far off
the road less travelled.

Sorrows and joys
are never had
in equal measure.

Unseen and unlived,
what we wrestle with
through every day.

Movement with a circle
leads in a futile motion
that ends at the beginning.

				The weakest of souls
				oft travel the
				far off path.

				The emotions we feel
				are there to help the heart
				grow in strength.

				What can and cannot be
				is but the illusion we live
				every day.

				The beginning is the end
				and the end is the beginning.
				An unending ring that cannot be broken.

				Life and death
				love and hate
				all are part of the circle
				of our lives.

By the thinnest of threads
we hold onto this life,
wavering along the edge.

What is felt is but in passing,
the briefest of thoughts
upon the day.

Living a myth,
struggling with the shadowed
corners that lurk within.

A circle of darkness,
even as the centre is lit.

				Be they gossamer or gold
				new or old
				the threads of our being
				are stronger than they seem.

				Better to have
				the briefest touches
				upon our souls
				then to never have
				felt them at all.

				What is myth,
				but a reality
				of a different kind
				to be conquered everyday.

				Even through the darkness
				the faintest of glimmers
				guides us through to a new dawning.