Velvet Legends

The Autumn of My Love

From its velvet shadows

Autumn falls upon a former love.

It brings a shrunken mystery

To all the scenes above,

Though spiraling words

Suggest that there is more

Than ever was before.

The crimson days

Of keeping it alive

And out of Winter's door

Now shortened into

Days of rest and meditation

Add nothing to the score!

Yet there's the whirr

Of angels' wings,

Shadow of a pyramid

When contrasts bid

Rustling sounds of love,

Of precious, cherished things.

I never knew how many

Till you had left the Earth.

Their echoes linger yet;

Ever-receding fata morgana

Deceives these quests of mine

To prove how much they're worth.

Our promise of a home we'd share

Upon that yonder hill

Was all that kept our hearts alive

For countless years, and still

It stretches forth into the sun

In distant chariot path

To make a way where there was none.

In some dim aftermath

I'll see you standing there

Upon the streak of comet's tail

Of streaming white light.

In awhile I'll come to you,

To where it's shining bright.

We'll sing a thousand choruses,

We'll laugh a million laughs.

We'll never say 'goodbye', my love,

Nor wonder why it never was,

Because it always is, my love.

It always was - and is - below, - above.

〰©Nellieanna H. Hay

late night, 9-10-84

Speak to me.

Say it, blurt it out,

Shout

And wave a flag.

Tell me that you want me.

I know it anyway.

Nothing you can say or not

Adds or takes a thing.

But if it frees you

From your burden

Wanting silently,

Then, know I know.

〰©Nellieanna H. Hay

You cannot go home again.

Home for you

Has crumbled

Long ago.

You know the winding road,

The stream,

Meaning of completion

Somewhere else.

As do I.

〰©Nellieanna H. Hay

The misery and ecstasy of silence

Extend from yesterday and back.

Tomorrow ~ ?

Who can say?

Tomorrow may

Bring symphony

To break the silence once again.

When spoken syllables resound,

Painfully projected

Through joys

Of self-expression,

Silence says the rest.

Words need not be said

Too grudgingly.

Perhaps silencing

Those frantic syllables

Is self-expression at its best.

When misery and ecstasy of silence

Project into future and back.

〰©Nellieanna H. Hay

Yama-uba lives on yonder hills

Steals my heart and stows

In dreams at night

Hidden mysteries

Watering there her garden

Till it outgrows

Its daytime boundaries.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

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