Posts Tagged ‘spirit’


cold words fall like a drafty afterthought

the dream catcher leaves have arrived

our woods retain sudden memories of warmth

there is a new kind of music that swirls in our driveways

and a familiar sort of dance

it is one for the trees


and for their dearly departed souls

they crumble and drift

they rattle and hum

a trillion cells immortal

gone to live beneath our feet


and oh how we breathe

our hearts in repose

we have sanctioned their coming

though such memories are but on loan

they have triggered our senses

those first to be found

now surrendering forever

for in the winter they will have gone


but i shall be your ghosted firefly

your remnants of summer

and in the evening your pumpkins

so lovingly carved out of light


i will smile from doorways open

and walk your sugary streets

for i have been in such worlds

i have tasted those treats


but while we are here

in a place…

so strangely familiar

perhaps we should ask…


what words have you seen falling?

are you such a catcher of dreams?

we must ponder how they answer

those warm wooden trees

it is not enough to simply listen

to hear their songs in the night

we must wonder why they tremble

so cold with delight

as if their notes were softly telling

this story of the night


or should we wonder?

have we missed something greater…

perhaps just this season

our earthly prayers bathed in light

or a symbol freshly shattered

a reflective mirror

for those without sight


-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 10/26/16


“the dreaming swell”

she has come to me

like a swell of autumnal golden wind

her immense energies run wild through my hair

my sunglassed watery eyes are singing

the scratch and rustle of her myriad refuse

it litters my pathway like a dream cut from a yellowish brown world

and i am stillness in her path

my mindful steps so quietly touch the firmament

i drink the enormity of this boundless energy

and wonder over the former parts of myself

now cast among the stars of a different reality

how now do they mingle?

what sly and clever forms have they taken?

are they the birds that sang to me when I was lost?

are they the clouds that kept the morning sun at bay?

perhaps i should just never know…

and why shall i lament?

for i am the bird that sings upon this morning

and in the evening, the clouds will i become

i will shade you from such burdens

giving flight to lost horizons

and when that kiss of wind

it comes again in spring

my lips will be unfrozen

having awakened from this dream

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari  11/12/15

when comes summer?

cars on the water

swimming in a glass

half-full of morning laughter

and the tire-irons rusting

like restless creatures

tall in the grass and singing

like wands in the woodshop carving

and crowns that lay alone sleeping

they wait for spirits and the leaving

while the boats on land are steaming

there they search for the horizon bleeding

orange and gold and glistening

we are the shadows that grow in that distance

and the mighty clouds that weep

we are the static in the air

and the hearts that swell and swoon

we sweat and sway

our cheeks they gently brush

for we are the pollen and the nectar

our sweet confections crafted

of angels, food and cake

and when we speak of visions

in the straining hour of dawn

we think upon the hillside

looking down over the hills and farms

and we know of the children waking

and the bliss of beds and homes

we think then of the warming

when comes the sun this morning?

a disc alive and bright

we move swiftly through the acres

through the channels carved in stone

wishing only for this moment

one more summer here alone…

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/3/13


“baby and birds”

i am moved by the weight of sound

and the scent of steaming raindrops

as they course over the bitter blacktop

lungs filled with hot summer air

my mind simmering like the day

and i touch the broken grass

it tickles my stocking feet

while i gaze into the canopy

birds are speaking loudly

they want me to hear

for their lyrics are profound

where will they be

when comes the snow and ice

in some great distant land

singing praises there

i am stirred by the shifting light of dusk

it makes of me a fool

hiding truth amidst the darkness

what strange sounds come now

in backyards

outside the dusty window panes

and i touch the stained glass

its texture feels my fingers

tracing out all the history

that has passed through in colored light

so make for me this bed

for in sleep i shall remember

what comes in days and hours

forming rhymes and rhythms

swinging in the dreaming hammock

and waking to devour

i am lifted by this spirit

so lonely in the darkness

i have fallen from my perch

feeling momentary sadness

but when i see her face

her golden baby smile

i take her out to see the birds

perhaps she can translate for awhile

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/3/12



fleet of foot

on wide slanted lines

precious little artifacts

hidden in the moorish design

glistening azure tiles to the sky

white hot roof tops

and spice market flags

they shift and flap

high above the mud walls

and the summer fountain yards

beads turn over clutched hands

nimbly building prayers of glass

shattering spirited worlds

affecting far removed hearts

away in the fields of some distant land

and there, among the banyan trees

shade grows long with the day

turning and pressing the jam scented fruit

soon to be on its way

to coffee houses filled with steam

a taste between conversations

and the words they carry home

will fit like the scabbard blade

passing between lips

unknown they will digest

with a passing sleight of hand

a forehead kiss goodnight

the dreamers will have dreamed

they will awake

to mornings yellow light

hearing the sounds of silence

and the birds aloft in flight

crossing endless landscapes

around and round they go

always back to where they started

but they do not even know


-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/20/12

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