Please click the landscape photo above to hear new music, "Vignette No. 27," composed by the author for tin whistle and ancient viols.

Splayed fingers fan before my eyes.

Now I'm a peacock's tail.

A thousand perspectives gaze

From a sea of green.

Rays of light from the morning sun,

Just before rising,

Illuminate the undersides of

Low lying clouds.

Where did time go?

Already noon, the sun has many eyes,

All of whom have

Seen too much of me.

I flee their gaze to

Hide underground among the

Roots of memory traces through rocky soils

Of endless errors.

I wait for evening to

Emerge from the ground,

Keeping my shadow low,

And spend day's end in my cottage.

Sipping herbal tea,

Petting a dog hungry for my touch,

These must stand 

In place of  happiness.

Tomorrow, perhaps,  

Yes, tomorrow, 

I'll find

The courage to rebel.

I'll ask joy and life of Grace,

 Despite my sins,

And embrace the possibility

Of forgiveness.

Dark approaches, 

Day's brief hopes have died.

I wish instead for one more night.

 One last night.

One free from

The relentless nightmares of a small child,

Vainly searching,

But never finding home.

Refreshed, might I then 

Have the gall to face the sun

And strut, displaying my

Glorious peacock's tail again?

No. I'm too tired.

I only have the spirit to 

Bear the wan embrace

Of hopes and dreams in ruin.

Defeated, 

I resign myself to living

My remaining nights in

The fraternity of the lost.

"No, no! There must be hope," I tell myself,

"What if you stay silent.

Don't speak or write another word.

Karma might  forget that you exist."

No, that's wishing for too little.

Better yet, the perfect end:

Suddenly, peacefully,

 I cease to love

And cease to be.