In the midst of summer
Christmas lurks, it flits
in back of mind recess
it hardly ever goes away
despite the warm beach
sand, and family outing
under blue sky visual mirth
Christmas sounds, airs
and magic moments
that atmosphere so rare
the other seasons count
they have their own charm
but somehow Christmas
that inspiring beacon

After death,
I will not be gone—
I will be wind, touching your skin,
I will be silence, deep within.

The body fades, the name dissolves,
But the soul—
The soul returns to the rhythm of stars,
To the breath before beginnings,
To the light that dreams all forms.

There is no end,
Only a door swinging inward.
I become the question and the answer,
The seed, the flame, the sky undone.

I will not speak,
But you will feel me in stillness—
When time pauses,
And your heart remembers
That it too is part of the infinite.

The sun, glowing, brighter than ever
A beautiful sight, eternal
Hoping it will be there forever
Penning this down in a journal
Hoping in a way, it will leave never

The sunset, the twilight hour
Where the sun meets the ocean
The golden light rains down in a shower
It is a mystical potion
The sun, blooming upon the sea like a flower

Damp sound of squelching  grass
beneath my feet
ushers bright dew soaked morn
on wild green plot
of tangled  twigs, stalks, leafs
where young lambs bleat
they frolic, gambol, play
in blue dawn trot

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But who am I to judge?
Tales of old,
Long left untold,
Now seek us through the hush.

Who will tell them—me or you?
Some were fair, and some were not.
Some have ended,
Most are lost.
But still, some wander,
Gleaming like a gem—
One for you,
And one for me...
Will I ever truly know thee?

So here I sit and listen,
Will there ever truly stay?

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But I am not afraid.
To watch the stars without a moon
Is like living...
Living without you.

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But who am I to judge?
Tales of old,
Long left untold,
Now seek us through the hush.

Who will tell them—me or you?
Some were fair, and some were not.
Some have ended,
Most are lost.
But still, some wander,
Gleaming like a gem—
One for you,
And one for me...
Will I ever truly know thee?

So here I sit and listen,
Will there ever truly stay?

The night is dark and full of terrors—
But I am not afraid.
To watch the stars without a moon
Is like living...

Compost layer genus code, emulsions where thorny, splatters  sprout up