autochthonic : originating where found Polaris I haven't got a paper and I haven't got a phone The plane bound for Tokyo leaves tomorrow I'm still waiting for the news to reach me Still waiting for the sign to come I haven't got a hope and I haven't got a dime The bus for Madagascar leaves in half an hour I'm looking at the sky beyond the window And searching for the telegram of light I haven't got my shoes and I haven't got a hat The dove to Venus leaves in thirty seconds I've been looking in my palms for days In case you left your name behind on me I wrote the sacred book of my affections Dedicated to the one whom I adore If you can't read my intimate directions Then I can't wait here for you anymore I haven't got a vision, I haven't got a lover The light from Polaris left four hundred years ago It reached me five minutes short of midnight And said that it was time for me to fly. Rose Whispers I'm thirsty, I'm thirsty for you Dry and brittle and alone I'm waiting On the window sill Leaning against the lime-stained curve Of a neglected crystal vase Staring out the window I remember being full of scent Wild with colour, and the way your fingers Pricked themselves against my thorns. My leaves caressed your skin You danced with me Took me in your mouth Played with me between your hands Leaned your cheek against me I was in love with you I left the garden just for you I remember the way you leaned over me And brushed your lips against my red petals How your fingers curled around my stem Seductively. It'll only hurt for a moment, you said, And then you cut me from my old life You made me yours. Leaves dry like pages of lost theology no one believes Petals dark and withered, old blood coloured and grim Shrivelled tired stem, impotent thorns falling To the bottom of the empty vase I see you in the street below With your hands full of lillies You weren't strong enough to bear my thorns But do the lillies love you like I do Dry and alone on the window sill No lily could love you like I do Sometimes the moon is empty When I hang here, hollow, strung between days, I remind myself... sometimes the moon is empty Sometimes she is nothing but her absence in the dark A space between the stars where she used to be When I am empty like the moon, and only my silence speaks I remind myself... sometimes the wind is weary Sometimes the wind is nothing but a silence in the grass A strange peace where her motion ought to be When I am weary like the wind, and my song is gone I remind myself... sometimes the sun is still Sometimes the sun pauses for breath between seasons And there is nothing but waiting while she breathes When I am still like the sun, weary like the wind, empty like the moon Remember... I am still here Waiting for the moment when I am moved again

CORRYN.NET : authochthonic polaris rose whispers sometimes the moon designed by ande