One thing I do remember is the dance.
Your river hair was flowing the magic nights.
Steps guided by the heart’s inner lance.
Our motion flew above the city lights.
Remember fall among the yellow leaves?
Our eyes reflected colors of the soul.
Before we even knew we had the keys,
Our fountain’s dream we danced around could flow.
I wonder what you thought about our song?
It echoes still, they say, that empty hall.
It tries to resurrect what seems long gone
A memory my heart will always call.
I sometimes think when walking down this street,
I’ll turn and somehow there again we’ll meet.
Cross of Lorraine
I wanted down the cotton pine below.
It seemed the dream was calling from their root.
I had escaped the cocktail party show:
The empty voices blocking nature’s tune.
The recent summons in the field of time:
Our river’s bridge was rotting but still there.
Perhaps it was just merely warmth from wine,
I melted down that rickety old stair.
I wondered would your eyes still have that glow
If I could somehow reach across our lives;
And swim the river down our muddy soul
Where love forever dances in the night?
Our little eyes that swim the river’s floor:
Their secret depths open new love’s door.
© 2013 Stephen Pickering
I swim the river wide
Hoping to find you inside
This new life.
Go Through the Hills
by Stephen Pickering
You are my tree.
because you have set me free.
An orchard garden grows
on land that once only snowed.
I’m under a spell
Only Ishtar can undo
Down, down her Roman well
I’m falling too.
I am the bird.
My life is the worm.
I see her cold, dark eye
bury me in the blood red sky.
There’s a tick.
The doors unlock.
I’m just a hick,
but I know when angels knock.
I don’t deserve this.
But here I am:
An Italian mist
Where Dante swam.
There’s a nickel sky,
and a lone star.
Gray clouds cry
wondering where you are.
That girl will come.
I feel her blinking again.
A bouncing little Sun.
She knows exactly where I am.
These beings inside
If you climb their stare
Feed the stillness of the night,
the castle that’s always been there.
I cannot breathe.
Your eyes are the hidden stone.
The gateless gate to the golden stream.
Unfold the night no man’s known.
©2013 Stephen K. Pickering
Something’s going on that wants to be known, a presence.
It wants you to make your connection.
What do you think is really underneath the veil?
Something very deep.
Deeper than history, deeper than tomorrow, deeper than now.
That’s the secret, secret, secret voice
that never comes out during the day.
I’m with you: I don’t want it to ever go away.
I think I’m wrong about the song.
I didn’t feel that you would come.
Please tell the notes that don’t belong
That winter’s bone remains unsung.
I feel it on the inside grow.
So, could a man become a god?
Don’t let this meditation go.
Just follow it no matter what.
This isn’t where I want to be.
My heart is feeling very sore.
You know the site I want to see?
Three graces dancing at my door.
What is it that I’m running from?
Those angels say to let it come.
We have eternal ‘monicas that sing.
An icy cloud is growing over the South.
Out of the woods the Sun creates a ring
Though which the river dances in its mouth.
We’ve rowed this dream one hundred times before.
We’re made of the same blood that’s in the stars.
What does it take to sail through the gold door
Back to a life that always has been ours?
The pink clouds are the signal you sent up.
There’s something missing from this story line.
There must be something in that holy cup.
The same as Gilgamesh’s sacred vine.
We dive below that sea on every night
That Tristan oneday sees her sail is white.
©2013 Stephen K. Pickering