Thunder Before Lightning

I know, you won't belong to me,
Your uncertain heart has risen up and flown,
Another sunrise, there you'll surely wake and be,
Hope has it, that seed love planted has flourished and grown.

Here I daily monk, stowed away in my hermit rave,
Still I imagine all that distant music lasting sunsets parade,
Alone I walk through my garden, solitude just outside my cave,
Reminded of brilliant moments, in yesterday's Eden where we played.

Yet I'm surrounded, confined by towering circumventing walls,
Rising high these barriers hide, every unseen mystery which lies beyond,
Red flags flutter above each lofty corner, each streamer harkening a warning call,
My imagination shall never let me truly drink, refreshed by some cool placid pond.

If soothing music could comfort me all my abstract lonely nights,
Perhaps dreams I've dreamt would carry me to some alternate lofty height,
Shackled in my prison I lie down at its very centre, quiet and so clearly contrite,
Buttery blue flutterflies gather dancing around my being, clustered they freely alight.

Love has re-invaded my restless soul,
With all that crying pain, those love things,
I try singing it away, then perhaps I might remain whole,
Yet determined love, twists the knife that hurtful brings.

It's been said that joyous love outlives rancor, and certain death,
Souls mitigate and migrate, falling free from the perfect sky,
Spirit walks hand in hand with life, encouraged by each sacred breath,
Journey 'cross a blessed ground, ere divine love ever wither and die.

There we tread spell bound, mired in some terrible darkness once again,
Chained and desperately tired, saddled for life with so many disparaging fears,
Each lonely day wishing for fragrant freedom, liberation from all this horrid disdain,
Who would have imagined o'er ten thousand years, there could be so many trying tears?

Spurred on through the lonely night, errant time gallops away with us,
Myriads of ragged loneliness framed, contained by so many jagged jeers,
Time and time and time again, life conjures fiends abased by so much fuss,
Bags full of muss dragged o'er sleepless nights into dark days, so many dreadful years.

Manacled to our pierced and bleeding hearts,
Weeping with each searing ache, penance insists pain stays,
Requiring humble eminence, for all our daily sinful parts,
Such a torrid crucible, jumbled within these costly torpid days.

Lie deathly still, ponder presence beneath summer's sombre skies,
Day dreams come and go, prophesying verisimilitude that Tao imposed,
Forecasting each flagrant fling, every act and nuance of loathsome lies,
Naked under unbelieving stars, recklessly indifferent and so very exposed. 

Blistered molds reinstate unfolding worlds,  thoughts most remarkably suffice,
Blending life with withered grass, intricately woven with unending forgiveness,
Bits of shrunken solace in these hours, compassion rests its need for altruistic sacrifice,
Upon a terse loom each warped strand clenched by divinity's rigid righteousness.

Enticed by every integral breath we take,
Starved by each and every hungry mode,
Enlightened by ordinary  journeys we make,
Treading long dusty roads, so burdened by our heavy loads.

Kicking stones, lugging all that tiresome baggage we bring,
Passing blossoming fields, where we stop to gladly rest,
Abiding worn out souls, yet Larks and Sparrows harken even sing,
Divine glory behooves each remorseless day, lest fate and trouble attest.

Colour billowing in the wind, sacred gloriously recommends,
Shaded groves of stately trees, where righteous birds nest,
Pigmented layers upon a feathered crust, which ancient sends,
Rooted and roosting freely, chanting daily prayers such a brilliant crest.

You came to me in a dream again,
Just as you have so many times in our varied past,
I know this sentimental scene, all so seemingly wrong but then,
Hopes and dreams and forevermore shall never truly last.

There can be no virtuous place for us,
Where divine good or romance forever wins over,
In fairy tales and legends midst all that rustled muss,
Where magnificent love might truly take a passionate lover.

Perfect rays of flawless sun, shines on everyone,
Unlike this plastic artificial world, all void of glories,
Filled with greedy sin and hardship, keeping us undone,
Worshiping jewels sparkling in the sky, oh lost treasure stories.

Mired in some stinking bog, such a twisted cruel world,
Where hard rain floods the land and delicate tears constantly fall,
Compassionate love is merely a dream that remains hardened and curled,
A world where battles mark death, rallying down stark alleys with a brutal call.

No matter what we genuinely feel or wish or want,
No matter what our heart seems to dream in any good guise,
Fairy tales, myths and legends unfold spent and gaunt,
An ersatz world foretells a stormy future with so many shadowed lies.

Wading and waiting along all those soothing sacred rivers,
Waiting patiently for all the world to open wide closed eyes,
All sentient beings tearing open closed hearts, become reverent givers,
Perhaps hope and purity brings good  fortune, dispells all irreverent ties.

A spark, created by our own calloused hand,
Channeled down a hardwood board, even crucial pressure,
A dried wooden stick firmly gripped, under our command,
Making fire, thus man is born with sentient good and earthly measure.

Still I'm imprisoned within this walled surround of silent grief,
If only I might rise up, fly free from this castle of correction,
Memories of you keep me tethered and grounded in my belief,
Chaste love gives us wings, so we may escape self imposed detention.

Distilled inside this divine creation, a beating heart grumbles within my being,
All my broken dreams, nothing but illusions concocted behind each towering wall,
Yet dreamy clouds drift by, thunder breaks the silence with enlightened meaning,
Still I can't fly or see as lightning blinds me, forewarning me of all that red flag pall.