A HOLD ON MY HEART

When next is night
and late awaits
a dreamless sleep,
I toss to the turn
of tangled thoughts
and midnight memories
of what gone once was
in almost-gone days
that simply can not be.

I hold on
to the nostalgic warmth
of mysterial moons
and imaginary landscapes;
still moments
and frail flowers
that bloom
in the sunshine
of your soul.

Though we meet
only in the poetic space
between worlds,
everything draws me to you
and to the essential
stillness of your heart.

Suspended in supple shadows,
the echo of your voice
lingers in my head,
but it is the music
of your singular spirit
that has a hold
on my heart.

Without the permanence
of timeless love
and impassioned
poetry,
days pass through night,
lonely
to be alone.


© JOHN PISCATELLA

CIRCLE OF LIFE

Every
liquid-slow minute
the perfect minute
to love
the along
along the way.

Beneath the surface,
beside my younger-self
and my soul’s companion,
lies an impatient wind,
tempered by time
and the shifting sands
of summer-gone.

But I am sustained
by lingering
hues of happiness
and a treasure-house
of good fortune
that have colored
my palette,
graced my canvas,
and deepened the depth
of my perception.

The circle of life
is fragile,
but infinitely stronger
than a straight line
to the crystal silence
of distinct finality.

I long for love lost
and lost innocence,
but am warmed
by sunshine,
from the rarest
of lost soul’s,
that lives forever
in the heaven
of my heart.

© JOHN PISCATELLA