Farewell to a thousand things

Window Reflection by HunterChanel

Life is short. Grasp what you can get.
A moment passed is past, like sand through your fingers.
For every missed chance, a fleeting moment, regret lingers.

Memories of what we had stay with us,
Taunting with might-have-beens, alternate futures,
What doctors can’t fix with a million sutures.

Forever chasing moonbeams
And all the little things you are.
Farewell to a thousand things.

Drifting through life on an endless conveyor,
Nameless people in distant places, now lost.
Time spent naming friendly faces, at what cost.

Forever dreaming visions
Of all the little things you are.
Farewell to a thousand things.

Time unending, now unbending,
Facing east, ever forward.
Can’t look back.

Forever losing details
Of all the little things you were.
Farewell to those thousand things.

Time unending, now unbending,
Facing east, ever forward.
Don’t look back.

Time passed

talk to me by Julia Skobeleva


Clouds pregnant with rain,
An omen for the new day.
Shadows of memory
On the cusp of lost love.

Love will end today
As it began, a shower
In spring then, now fall.

We fall, like those million droplets,
From great height to a bottomless chasm
Two as one become two again.

Again, the sun will shine
like summer, warm on my skin
in a new dawn forever
when the clouds part.

We grew apart. (Is that growth?)

Until that day, I’ll remember
The wind coursing through my soaked hair,
The hair he touched, he kissed,

When we loved.

On Dancer!

Seeing the girl chained to the tree brought back memories. Survival had come at a cost. Crack insulated me from the dreams, but the scar seemed as black as my mood this Christmas Eve.

My blade still felt warm as the minutes ticked away. Although nothing like revenge, reenactment freed me. She wouldn’t suffer the same fate as I. The fire reflected in her fresh blood twinkled as her life extinguished. I was finished here.

A Black Photograph


I’m dreaming again,
an imageless dream,
a black photograph.

A stir in the darkness
pleases this moonchild,
this waterbaby.

My night is clear and light,
as bright to me as day,
calling to me.

Darkness toys with my spirit,
a sensual game,
my distraction.

My dream, being taken,
loved by the night,
my day, my moon.

I swim in the pool of life,
dreams obsessed with lust,
my desire.

Darkness yearns to include me,
to please me, to love me,
to make three.

Sleep calls me,
come out to play,
so I must go.

My nightdress is lonely
on its hook tonight.
I’m in the mood.

The Annethology is complete …


… I think. I just finished editing the 18 short stories that will make up The Veil of Sheera and other Tales. If you are one of my regular readers, I’m looking for one person to beta it. I’ve had comments on the individual stories, but not on the collection as a whole. Let me know if you are interested in a comment below.

I’m also looking for cover art. (I can’t use the pic above, sadly.) If you are interest in contributing a photo or drawing, preferably of Sheera in a chair under her veil (You can read the story on this site.), send me some ideas.