Mirage - Brooke

Mirage

Dance of the Sun

By

Jerome Brooke

GoodSAMARitan Press

2009

                                       Mirage

                        Layers of false illusion lie,

                                    Clouds of pale daimons tie.

                        Under us, red walls glow,

                                    Tears, cold knives, flow.

                        Choice now, now will return.

                                    Hope and love shall learn.

Ages Past

Planes of Mirage, clouds of mist, lie deep,

Freed by light.

Ages past, lost to all eyes, dwell below,

Waiting for life.

Lovers in the spring, death in winter,

Await their freedom.

Empires of Iron, Kings noble and wise

Sleep lightly.

                            Clouds and Mist

            Dark waves rise, race to the shore,

                        Black nights of the soul.

            At sea, pale clouds, and mist, hide memory,

                        Moments of joy, and sorrow.

            Layers of Mirage, and Fate, reach down,

                        Free of light.

            Ages past, lost to her eyes, dwell below,

                        Waiting for life.

                         Hills of Life

            Goddess of Night, of the silent hills,

                        With voice of gold ;

            Sleep well in the folds of the earth,

                        Your green, mute hills.

            Do you weep, Lady, for your river,

                        Flowing, tossed, so lost?

            Flowing past the trees,

                        Down to the dark sea.

            Carry us through the pale mist,

                        Cloud of your sweet grace.

            Encircle us, gently hold us,

                        Wrap us in your sweet lace.

                          Journey

            Fast and wild, fast the river flows,

                        Through the empty land;

            Down the desert, endless plain,

                        Through barren sand.

            Dark eyes that see,

                        See the goal,

            Where the lost river,

                        Wild river, wild soul.

            The past, made plain, open,

                        Our future known,

            All, all is now clear, plainly told,

                        All is shown.

            Searing eyes, eyes that search,

                        Eyes that see;

            Cruel eyes, eyes now hidden,

                        Hidden by the sea.

                                Shore 

            Turn to the black, cold hills,

                        Run to the caves,

            Call now, call the endless rain,

           Call the waves.

            Flow free the waves, the cruel waves,

                        Racing ever more,

            Passing the sharp, dark rocks,

                        Rocks along the shore.

            Clouds, black, and dark gray,

                        Wait for the storm, wait the Lie.

             Waves come, then strike,

                        Slay without mercy, fall, and die.

            Waves, clouds, cruel rocks,

                        Turn, and dance, dance and slay,

            Dance now, spin wildly,

                        Leap high, and forever play.

                  Songs and Storms

Storms and rain the hills, silent in lines,

                        Hold back and slay.

            Gales sweep through the vales, past ice,

                        Seeking life this day.

            Storms sing of lost realms, forbidden,

                        Filled with tears.

            Roads concealed from eyes, and minds,

                        Paths of fears.

            Our Lady sleeps in the ice, in the cold,

                        Dark hills and vales.

            Cruel storms race across the plain,

                        Cutting, endless gales.

            Storms carry her on paths long, troubled,

                        Wounded and torn.

            Without rest and hope, she searches,

                        On this dark morn.

              White with Waves

            Fast, fast the river flows,

                        White with waves;

            Speeding through cold years;

                        Icy, dark slaves.

            Troubled, the deep river goes,

                        Past cliffs, into sight;

            Caves of silent, waiting darkness,

                        Windows of night.

            Dark eyes, burning in hate, that see,

                        See the hidden, distance goals.         

            Deep in the swift, wild, fleeing river,

                        See the lovers, lost souls.

            Caves of wisdom, cold eyes of fear,

                        Our dim future now reveals.

            All hope secures, all truth, freely tells;

                        With words, broken from seals.

                   Dance of the Torches

            Far, far away, the flames do play,

                        Leaping in the far distance.

            Across the way, candles turn,

                        Doing their reckless dance.

            Stars glitter, then fall, in the sky;

                        Hopeless realm of night.

            Falling, falling to our green realm,

                        Into our fading sight.

            Memories, mere dreams, rise in the dark,

                        Blind eye of the mind.

            Dreams of death, memories of fleeting love, 

                        All, all of a single kind.

Produced in the Kingdom of Thailand

C copyright 2009  Jerome Brooke  All rights Reserved