My Nights are whispering voices





My Nights are whispering voices
of unspoken words
My mind sleeping, so still in silent thoughts
My heart, a dull bearer of evil and defence
and in a hurry, in a rushing speed of desire
that grow and grow in every pace.

Ambitions and eager forcing my steps
That also make the time to slowly dwell
to where I trace without excuse and regrets
In perfect love, and in love being made
and raised by youth that last to the end.

And here I host for what shall be your delight
for what I can add to your trembling lips
and your shyness, that bow in front of me
a barrier, hungering for attention
that I lay light upon, to faithfully shine.

Compressed are my lips of the Nights
Dead, the unspoken words from whispering voices
My mind illuminating thoughts out of dreams
My heart bouncing and rushing, seeking in desire,
a leap in the dark and for what come to pass
from a barrier of shyness, hungering for attention
Now faithfully shining in the Night.

June 2019 ©k.c.

Without A Motive

                                                                           


Is it true what have been said?
That faith creates the finest looks
That beauty grows from winter trees
From icy moors and stiffened seas.


And is it true that the bare branches
Have caught all life in the early buds
And young days of shining smiles 
give pure mirth and spiritual light.


Can I trust my sleeping mind?
In these so early moments 
That tender, but flickering flames
From my gloomy windows, move
Like gracious but shivering signs.


And in my options of accepted audit
will I hereby leave for more a day?
To give an unbroken substantial limit 
To find itself and in that, thyself to stay.

Copyright 13th of March  kc.