Forgetting the moon

I haven't posted in a while and friends of mine have been wondering why. I guess I can blame it on the moon. I've seen it in a while nor have I stopped to look and wonder as I used to. That personal connection that I had with it feels like it's no longer there. That muse that would fuel my soul doesn't feel like it's calling anymore. Perhaps my muse is something else that I have yet to find or perhaps my "gift" is slowly fading into a world I haven't dreamed about yet. Whatever the case may be, I feel myself slipping.

It used to be that anger willed my poetry sometimes. Thinking of the people I hate the most and channeling it into something useful was easy at the time, but now that I'm letting go, it's getting hard to stay angry. Maybe that's just my "Archangel" within me talking and I'm just not the kind of person to hold a grudge forever, but right now, I don't feel like being angry.

Right now, I feel like writing something happy for a change. Something that will make people see a side of me that is rarely seen. A side that feels strongly for people no matter who they are, no matter what they've done to me or others, no matter where they come from, or what they look like. A poem dedicated to all people. I offer to all of you reading, a glimps into the mind of Archangel when he's at peace.

Beyond the asphalt covered former paths,
Above the highest tips of the sentinals that block the eastern and western sun,
into the mountains of long forgotten stories and dreams
is where those who seek peace often go
to lose themselves in life.

Deep in the darkest and dimmest of places
among jade leaved trees and amber lit grass,
which crisp sound bring the thoughts of spring,
the birds welcome the presence of an angel
wondering through the world
looking for a quiet spot to rest his mind.

Down shall he lay his burrdens
and wonders of the world he leaves behind.
His eyes to the Heavens above him
as he glaces through the peaks the trees give him.

The wind,
so cool against the warmth of his heart
whispers secrets through the trees
to tell him that this is how life should be.
On the wings of birds should our troubles fly.
Let them take them far away to places we may never see.

Rest your wings within the comfort of spring.
In the distance flows the essence of life.
Never does it need reason to do as it does,
never does it ask permission to move as it will.
Oh the questions we could answer by finally
closing our eyes and opening our minds and hearts
to the sounds of angels resting in the grass.

Only they can hear that peace still exists.

Only they will tell you how to find it.


© 2008 Archangel

5 Minutes til the New Year

The streets are lined

with smiling faces

and though they bring with them

the sense of joy

and sense of hope

I find none in my heart

without you by my side.

Soldier of this nation,

knight of my honor,

angel of my soul,

how I miss you so

and long for you to stand with me

as you stand with those

who fight along with you.

As the morn

of the new year approches

I sit here at my desk

and wonder if someone will knock at my door

to rescue me from this solitude

of loveless evenings without you.

I pray that person is you.

And now

they have started to count in the streets

and I will watch them from my window

as they cheer

and celebrate one more year.

I, instead, will sit here and wait.

Wait for you to bring yourself

and the essence of the places you've been

with you.

Blasts in the distance

tell me the time has come and gone.

Blasts that strike more fear to you

than they do to me.

But somehow,

I sit here and feel...

like you're no longer here...

Seven Minutes after Midnight

A shadow darker than the night
fills the empty space
in this foriegn ground
where I write to you.

By the light of a blessed moon
I take pen to paper and write you
one last letter...

One last letter
before the words which I speak
only though pen and paper,
sent by the uncaring will
of a soldier,
will be given to you by the person
whos heart writes them so.

Now as the breeze blows
it sends me the essence of you.
Your spirit from a home so far away
fills me with joy
that I will see you soon.

If I could only tell you
the things that I have seen,
the places I have been,
and the lives which have passed
through my life
and into the next,
some by my hands,
I sware to you, my love,
you would share the emptiness I feel
right now.

There is gunfire in the distance.
Though they tell us the war is over,
to those who fight it,
the pawns and the knights,
we know that war never ends.
It just stops
and waits to start again.

The words escape me
as to explain to you further.
True love has no words
to describe or to explain.
And so, I will end this letter
on a promise.

A promise that when the sun rises
I will count the seconds,
the minutes, the hours,
of when it will be time to see you again.

I pray for seas of glass,
winds of calm,
and starlight so bright
I could trace the path to our home
with a finger in the sky.

And with no more words,
I say...

New Beginning...

...to and old story.

Happy new year to everyone who has patiently waited my return. I hope that everyone's holidays were a blessing and that this new year is prosperous for us all. A new year for me means new material, new dreams, more work on my stories, and, of course, new poems.

I have been saving the energy to write this new poem for afew days now. I didn't get the inspiriation for writing it 'til a couple of days after the new year. After that, I let it linger inside of me and let the story build. When I finally finished it in my head, I realize that it was not really much of a story, but more of a love letter. Two love letters to be exact.

While I'm not known for my love poems, I do have a huge heart big enough to write them. But for anyone who's ever been in love, you know that some poems can be all the same and some can miss the point of love altogether.

Today, I'll give you something that's real on so many levels and you can decide if the love that was meant to be in it, was expressed the right way. It's a story written in two parts and the first starts with a soldier. I'll leave you, my fans, to read the rest.

I must give a thank you to the person who gave me the inspiration. Much like most of my friends and fans, he comes from far away and tells me that I should take my place among the pantheon of writers. I don't know about that, but I do know that I will keep doing what I'm doing even if I'm never recognized. For those of you who frequent my blog and those who are writers yourselves, you know that it better to be discovered from the many by many, than to waste an eternity trying to be recognized. Thanks, Tomas.

With that, I give you... Seven Minutes after Midnight.