If I could

If I could wipe that tear from your eye
And  for you a hundredfold cry
If I could once see you smile
I would walk a thousand miles
I would give my life at once to gain
What hurts you most, I'll steal your pain
And so that it troubles you never again...

The Mingling of the Lights

It is evening and the westward Sun bids goodbye
Colouring the sky with spreading red
Brilliant orange and blue fill the darkening sky
As the day speeds in glory to its death
Dawn and dusk the times of death
Twice in a day and night they come
For days end and night's last breath
Are known by these names to some
At both these times the most wondrous sights
Of this world and the next  are seen
For the time of the Mingling of the Lights
Is the time of what is and what has been
One such hour on a darkening eve
I beheld two beautiful trees
Taller than all and fairer than I could believe
They swayed gently in the breeze
One was green and of golden sheen
With trunk of brown-golden wood
The other sparkled with a silver sheen
And both mighty and tall they stood
Could it be that beholden to me
Were the Ancient trees of old?
Could it be in my fantasy
I saw the trees of silver and gold?
As soon as it came, the vision went
Replaced by the dust-scored day
But for a moment the dusty present was rent
And in my sight fair visions stay'd.

The bells don't ring anymore

The bells sound in the distant village
Rung by the restless wind
Trod not by the foot of man since an age
Rarely do they now ring
Yet that place was once fair and green
When children played in the once-lush hills
Many stories these trees have seen
And many more the rocks-resting uncounted still
What happened so long ago?
That it seems now the beginning of time
What little do mortal men now know
Of those wondrous bells that chime
Once they were rung by lusty hands
To proclaim great victories or warn
Of danger stalking through the lands
All erased now by the ever running sands
Of time: the greatest leveller

What do men now know
Of the race that lived and loved
Here in this valley, in the shadow
Of the hills a refuge from the heavens above.
Dead men they tell no tales
And none indeed are sung
Yet the sound echoes among the vales
When the bells the wind has rung
That wondrous chime recalls to them
The times that passed away
The hills remember about those men
When they were in their glory days
Tales indeed are many and more
Of forts besieged of battles won
Yet what of that might does now endure
When the last songs have been sung.

The bells ring once again
And strangely stir my heart
Of what and why I do not know
Yet I cannot depart
The shades of men yet linger here
The traces of love and sorrow
I sense their presence very near
I wish the hills memory to borrow
But the speech of stone
No man can speak and none can sing
For known to the rocks alone
Are tales of those wondrous things...

Riddle of the dreamer

I am from yonder mountain range
I am he whom men call strange
I am the bringer of sorrowful laughter
I am the tears that joy runs after

I am the night moonlit so bright
I am the darkness shrouded day
I am He who arises in might
I walked when Time in his crib still lay

I am the coolness of burning fire
I am the heat in the crystals of snow
I am the indifference in every desire
I am the future dreamt so long ago

I am one and I am all
I am one and I am none
I am legion
I am untraceable
I am intangible
I am legion
I am fire born from ashes
I am waterfall in ice enslaved
I am energy
I am all
But most of all
I am none
And I am nothing

Purpose

Aimless feet wonderingly wander along the winding path
Aimless for the eyes glittering guide the forward way

When the eyes refuse to seek to see
Then the purpose has no right to be

For vision leads purpose along the way
For vision of the sightless grabs sightless night from blinding day

When vision is gone it's desire yet remains
The sense-void filled by those that remain

When vision is lost naught is left
And of it's purpose, it's guide the mind bereft

None so blind as those that seek not to see
None so dead as those who choose not to be

For the dead yet live on in the minds of men
From there they may choose to rule hearts again

Dead men tell no tales to the living
If they could what sorrow it would bring!

For vision essential to purposeful life
Some things when seen can lead to naught but strife

Strife of the mind and the heart since ages begun
It shall remain unto the last, until mankind is done

The void
The sightless gap
Of holes in mind
Of the eye-closers among all mortals...
None so blind

Lightless dark
Darkless light
Yet none so dark as light ignored
None so foolish as reason scorned

None shall live when purpose leaves
None be who merely are
In the darkening moonless night
The black is rent by the last falling star