Mesha Metrist

pre 2000 Sometimes, if I look hard enough, I can see pictures in the stucco of the ceiling. I have found the outside world to be too rough, too often, and so I relish in the simple beauties that surround me. Like pictures in the ceiling. Once, as I lay in my bed sleeping wide-awake, your image again permeated my thoughts. And I could see the fluid grace of your gestures, the passion in your eyes that is always so clear in your voice. I could feel the warmth of your hand encircling mine, and I could hear our hearts beating as one. Silent tears soak my pillow. You are so far. And our love, only pictures in the ceiling. There are words there, inspiration, truth, resolution. Childish shapes of circle suns with stick straight-line rays, hearts and flowers and images that make my soul feel young. And I can trace your name through the rough surface, and it stands so clear in my mind's eye. And I may find myself asking, 'Can you see this too?' And then, I...

pre 2000 At the edge of meaning, a jagged cliff in my mind where my gaze is obscured by a cloud of confusion, A familiar voice, the whir of an idea, Sends chill, needle pricks across frozen skin. At the limits of my consciousness I hear the song of a bird, Is it she, who possesses my answer? -No- She simply possesses my song

pre 2000 Blanketed by the sun where here there is shelter lend me your warmth And as blue fades clouds pulled apart I am left solitary seeking out first star Allow the moon's light to guide me home, whispered noise to the beat of steps on sone Following white light, perfect blades of grass I know not of where I am going, just as long as it is not where I have been. Pull me by the hand I am guided easy, by you the strong I know not of where I am going, as long as it is far from here I know not of where I am going, only that you take me there. And I do not know of fear, I am not resistant I am follower I am blinded the Light, it does not guide me not like the search for my heart That is where you may find me Warm again at last