hyper-ballads are forming
on warm and dangerous moorings
in the halls of trains
and in the provinces
an old patchwork of quilted lines
scattered and breathless
a future in the morning
tattered and restless
i wonder about you
and in the wondering,
i falter
for you are no follower
there are no doors upon which you knock
no bells for the sounding
you are the mistress of a thousand rich hours
spinning long in a web
kissing the wind and the honey
in your cloudless sky
on your motionless world
solemn tomes are conspiring
in cold flowers that grow and flourish
like so many notes
they sing and say
over wicked hills
to the far and to the away
of strong iron and soft orange clay
i sit and watch your swaying
in the breeze of my shadow
on a dark eye-liner night
when so cat like you whisper
your warm breath on my shoulders
it seems like forever…
the two of us alone
and together
in the end there is only this
the laughing, the lying
the emptiness
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/11/13
poems365dotcom 