LOVE WITH NO DISGUISE

Love is destined
not to be
for always
but is never
forever gone
from the sealed core
of a hidden heart.

To have lived
and loved
is a poem
within a poem,
the irreversible
pulse-beats
of a journey
inside a journey
that carry me
full circle
like a stem
in search
of a blossom
to the gardens
of your world
and back.

Sweeter
than the scent
of a rose
kissed
by tears
of morning dew
or the passion
of poetry
that towers
above thought
is the wish
to love
with no disguise
soul to soul
in the light
of eternal night.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

WHERE QUIET WALKS ALONE

Poetry
is my pause
between
misplaced minutes
and momentary memories.

Split in two,
like a cell
in a mitotic phase,
a half-extinguished thought
invents another thought,
until an image,
a sensory impression,
reveals
an invisible face
that no one
in the world
can see,
but me.

Mellifluous,
in the middle
of a phrase
or at the beginning
of an ending,
words,
like the music
of the tide,
take me to you
with the highs
and lows
of every note,
of every ebb
that ever flowed.

We go on and on,
forever and always,
to meet in silence
where love lives
and where quiet
walks alone.

© JOHN PISCATELLA

COSTA RICAN MOON

The sky is full of Costa Rican moon.
And now I am alone.

Lost between moonlight and memories
I am revived
by the crackling modulation
of cicadas in the tree-tops;
a cacophony of chatter
that drown out
the harmonious sound
of raindrops on a metal roof.

I am steeped
in the pure wine of aliveness
but something wonderful is missing
at the edge of my moments.
Gone is that which once was,
tendrils of magic that clung
to everyone and everything around you
like a gentle breeze
before an impatient wind.

Try as I may,
through the sensory channels
of my mind and body,
I swallow but can’t fully taste
the intoxicating essence
of the rain-forest around me.

It is invisible,
this impermeable husk
wrapped around my soul,
but it is real,
and nothing but time
can soften the edges.

In broad daylight,
if I walk with you
in the shadows
of this forest on forest world,
I am able to see the light
that transcends time
and timelessness.

I am not unlike the coral snake
slithering on the forest floor,
or a golden orb web spider
with a filament stronger than steel.
We all have our place.

Even the strawberry poison dart frog
and the dangerous bullet ant belong
and are friends
at an aesthetic distance
and are as beautiful as the iridescent
blue morpho butterfly
in flight oras resplendent as the colorful
giant bill of a toucan
or the cackling call of
a laughing falcon
stalking
a coral snake.

I can walk suspended bridges
over raging rivers
to visit sloths
and howler monkeys,
but lack equilibrium
and child-like wonderment
without my counterbalance
at my side.

Alone, I can soak
in volcanic hot springs
and still be cool to the touch.
Or watch an active volcano
in the golden lava-like night,
and be intrigued
but not amazed.

Like the scarlet macaws
in the mangrove forests,
I was mated for life,
and meant to fly
as part of a pair.

But solo I will,
to the moon if I must,
to see your smile
one more time,
and to find
the clarity
of my own.

© JOHN PISCATELLA