Early Lyrics

Again I'm here, before you, Poet, now,
My eyes with unshed tears of sorrow shine,
A soul that bears a deeply earthly ache,
A heart that seeks the Light in which to wake.

Where can I find the strength for such a fight?
The sword you gave is heavy in my hand.
How can I walk this dark and earthly land
To reach the cosmic burning of your light?

Your circle of earthly life now fully spun,
You vanished into fires of cosmic space;
Into the great, the glimmering Sea as one,
Your mighty stream has merged, without a trace.

…I never heard your answer to my plea. –
Your brows, drawn close in silence, firmly hold.
The salty taste of blood is all I see, and all I taste,
And the long road ahead, and your mute gaze, now cold.

June, 1983 - April, 1992

I never knew his character too well,
Just who he was to you, I still can't tell.
He simply waited for you far too long —
A candle's flame in darkness, deep and strong.

He searched the sea for one elusive gleam,
And in the depths, he read your sacred Name.
At times, it seemed that hope was a lost theme,
But his own hope, he never let grow tame.

I still recall the happiness, the grace
That lit his eyes when you had met at last.
What hidden storms behind a tranquil face,
When you informed him that that time had passed!

A burnt-out candle's silent, wordless cry
Could not persuade his heart to turn to stone.
You wished him luck and bid a last goodbye,
And even that, he faced, and faced alone…

He often comes to me when night is deep —
So tired and sad, as if he's still alive,
And gazes at the candle-flame and weep,
His head, forever bowed, no more can strive.

November 9, 1984

There are such moments, sudden and serene,
When time's dominion suddenly is lost,
And a sequence of events, once unforeseen,
Reveals a pattern, hidden at all cost.

The fullness of all color disappears,
All turns ephemeral, like a dream's embrace —
A play of human masks throughout the years,
The silent chime of stars in time and space.

For some strange reason, it begins to ache,
The head grows heavy with the weight of dreams;
And then, a rhyme, an verse, begins to wake —
From this deep ache, the living language streams.

January 13, 1985

"Of things to come, of stars, of fairy-light:
I beheld an unearthly dream,
In mad colors, a frenzied, blinding sight,
That struck my very soul at its seam."
Alexander Block

…Of things to come, of stars, of fairy lore,
A vision came to me, unparalleled,
In mad and frenzied hues it painted o'er
My soul, and in its very depths I fell'd.

I dreamed I saw the smile of a child,
The wind's soft sob that through the hair will weave,
And a fawn's light leap, so graceful and wild,
Reflected in the blue eyes it would leave.

I dreamed I felt the breath of Astarte,
It scorched me with a bestial, primal fire.
On a hot night, the cards fell all apart,
To turn to charred ash with the day's new ire.

I dreamed I saw a hopeless, endless space,
From which there is no turning back, no way.
The silver wings of sorrow left their trace
Upon my temples, turning hair to grey.

I dreamed I saw the shimmer of the summer,
The way you laughed while pulling flowers near…
All this I dreamed today, a silent mummer.
…I was not sleeping. I was watching you here.

1987

Where does a word of warmth and comfort go?
On a sleepless night,
by a northern gust,
A shadow that slips from lips fever-glow?..

Where do the quiet songs and ballads wend?
Merged with the fire's dance,
the shimmering tide,
In a single sigh as dawnbreaks descend?..

Where do the loyal people drift and part?
On a road of white,
by a cruel fate's hand,
Torn from the burning core of a heart?..

Where does the memory, bright and clear, flee?
With a needle fine,
piercing soft and deep,
A soul worn fragile by storms, endlessly?..

The word, so warm…
The songs, now stilled…
The people, loyal…
The memory, bright.

November, 1987

When unexplainable, a suffering sore
Would grip my soul within a hand of steel,
And, interrupting sobs that were no more,
My bloody verses rushed out, raw and real;

The bitterness of ecstasy's sharp pain,
The groans of poems I could not exhale,
I would entrust to my blue-eyed friend then –
The Seventh Star of Corona's holy veil.

One day, the taut green flame of clouds will bloom
And writhe above me in a swirling guise,
A phantom banner spelling out my doom,
And lure me on to where the endless lies.

And in that hour, when o'er my rebel name
The forest bows its crowns and makes a sound,
I'll smile into the freezing abyss's frame –
The Seventh Star where my own fate is bound.

Your sorrows, troubles, and your anxious fears,
Its piercing ray will cut and penetrate.
But if, on an unknown path, storm-clouds appear,
And seal for you a dark and heavy fate,

If rot-gaped jaws of graves begin to call,
And crows begin to caw with joyful cries –
Into your soul, new life will breathe through all
The Seventh Star of Corona's starry skies.

October 12, 1987

The alarm clock on the table bursts like doom.
Yes, yes, I know, it's time for me to go…
I have lingered too long in this earthly room.
Oh, give me strength to walk the path I know!

The emptied hall of sky begins to pale,
The stars contort in darkness's last faint breath.
The night departs—my final railway trail,
A single, massive point on fate's own stave.

My life has been an empty, nightmare sleep.
The alarm roars… Well then, it's time to wake!
As in a frightful tale where joys run deep—
We leave this life, for our return's sake.

The abyss calls with its serpentine gaze,
Lights flicker in the smoke of centuries.
The final steps of this bad dream's last phase—
And all is gone. As if it never was…

Drawn by the chasm's cunning, dark allure,
I swayed above the yawning, gaping deep,
And… recoiled. For, suddenly and pure,
A light of unknown kind began to leap!

It filled all points of my soul, bleeding, torn,
This bluish light, this cool and potent flame.
Above the abyss, in the quiet morn,
I was uplifted, and I rose, reclaimed!

Millennia rushed by before my sight,
I ruled the mighty Dragons of the Fire,
Immortality's sharp point, a sudden, piercing bite,
My blood rang, boiling with a wild desire.

…I woke. What happened? What was this I saw?
A dream? A faint? A vision's swirling stream?
Then why this joy, this strength, this sense of law?
Where did the desperation, death's own theme, flee?

This moment I will guard forevermore,
The azure flame still in my blood resides;
It has become one with my destiny's core.
Thank you, O Lightning! I am Yours! The power abides!

August 25, 1987