The Withered Vine

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

As the heart withers upon the vine, it is the soul which suffers and bleeds. Into the darkness it is driven, upon the back of a skeletal steed.  And as the words of a lover smite it, the vines whither and die.  The soil beneath is blackened, as the once fertile veins run dry.  Fall becomes winter, and winter turns to spring, before a loving hand brings life back, and the first signs hope are seen.  She gently sifts through the soil, and plants a wondrous seed.  The shriveled veins first glisten, then throb as she sets them free. They twine in response to her presence, about her sensual form, and as they respond to each other, love which will last eternal, through the pain is once again born. RW

The Darkness

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

Mesmerized by the flames, it is not to light the which I am drawn but to the darkness beyond. I have passed beyond the flames, their heat searing my flesh, and it is to comfort that I look. Is there such a one who can sooth my pain?  One who can cradle me within their embrace and bath me in the salve of their affections?  I only know that though I pass through the flames a thousand times, it is to them whom I strive to seek refuge, and failing that, I will succumb to the flames allowing my heart to feed the blaze until it is committed to the ashes.

Thawing Of The Heart

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

The crystal paths of my heart map the ones I have loved. Its flames long since cooled by the pain I've withstood.  Along the path to this place lies the remains of those loves, the wilted foliage blown skyward away and above.  Alone I trudge forward, hope a far away land, yet far in the distance, ahead she may stand.  This woman, this vision which has captured my heart, warms the air that surrounds me and the thawing can start.  And so my pace quickens, as hope blooms in my chest, and behind may be seen, the crystals grow less.  Lush gardens await, as I reach to her embrace, and the sun finally shines on my up tilted face.

The Canyons

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

I sit silent listening to the echoes, unsure as to whether they are from the rocks that have fallen, or from the thoughts which fill my mind.  Tossing another stone, I cock my head, feeling the sounds resonate deep within me.  Long after the sounds fade, the thrum within me remains.  And how many have tread across the canyons of my mind, my heart, my soul?  I gaze inward, sensing the path of the multitudes which have passed, and the array of colors which their passage has wrought intrigues.  From the dark hues of the turbulent times, to the delicate shades of those whom I have loved.  And yet one among them stands out, bright and sure it travels unerringly through the hazards, roaming at will along the paths, all of which lead to my heart.  For this one, I scatter the stones of doubt.  For this one, I shall scale the treacherous walls.  For this one I shall risk a deadly fall into the depths.  And yet my heart is safe, for it is she who carries it.

The Goddess

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

    Across this ribbon which flows a thousand miles, lies a strange place of which I have naught but dreamed.  It's creatures strange and beautiful, its landscape a monument to the gods.  And yet I am bound here by my nature, my magic unable to survive the crossing. Though the temptation be strong, I refuse to yield, refuse to sacrifice the embrace of the goddess to whom I serve.  Such as it is, I will forge my own lands, I will create my own creatures, and I will sculpt beauty from my surroundings.  Thus those beyond my reach will be tempted, and unto me will they come, sharing in the fruits of the goddesses blessings.

Longing

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

The swirls and patterns caress the sky, beauty from beyond the horizon.  A horizon to which my one true love has fled.  And so, far into the northern lands, I await her return, bound to this sunless sky.  Will she accept this monster that I am?  Will she allow the heart which is bound to the beast to embrace her in its cold dark state?  Will she take the chance that she may hold the answer to its thawing?  Willing or no, the thawing has begun, and whether she be willing or not, I cannot find it within me to feed.  And thus I waste, awaiting that which may not come.  Without her, I would rather succumb to the everlasting slumber, rather than live in the shadows of that which I desire.

A Favorable Wind

Photo courtesy of Sharena Williams Photography

From lands distant and strange, from times long forgotten, may come that for which we yearn.  Carried upon the wind, our thoughts, our dreams, our longing, may traverse the globe settling who knows not where.  But were we vigilant, were we attentive, perhaps, once in a while, those winds may blow in our favor.  When that doth happen, breath deep of that air that fortune has blown our way, and cling tight to the gift which has been bestowed upon you.