A Poem (an Epic for the People Who Are Stuck)

Long hours, long hopeless hours.

Hours wasted, perhaps; spent, definitely.

Hours lost to the letters, hours spoiled for

The sake of a few grand words.

Long hours are gone.

They were not here at all though, so it seemed.

They came and passed, without being given

A second look.

A simple glance to reassure us that we were doing

That which we ought to.

We did not have time to look though, or so it seemed.

We have wasted our time. Our long hours. 

(Written October 2015)

Her and I

She and the sun,

Together polar of my heart,

Blaze on, greeting my

Soul like swallowtail to fawn.

Standing resolute,

I gaze upon her now,

As when we, long ago

Descended from realms of Halcyon.

Servile for lavish manna,

We long and pine,

For betrothal steadfast

Forever to our ethereal One.

The Lost Magdalene

I was and was not,

Now I find my way

To what I am.

Upon the day I rise,

And under the night I fall

To who I am.

I shed my veil,

Now freed from him

From the Hades that was.

Onward I follow,

And behind Him I see

What I once was.