Trilogy Poem by Peter S. Quinn

I

The Listener of The Light

I speak of no other like you
And my heart feels so wandering blue
That sails to the unknown sea,
That travels inside of me.
I can not but conquer my soul,
That tangles in mystic and broils
Outside, to find you on the inside,
- And you to be the listener of the light.
Free myself of wings from real living
For inspiration, thoughts I am here giving
That touches inside seas and skies.
Going further then a word that dies,
Shifting all colors and shades
And opening tempers of leaping gates;
That weaves around you like aura of seas,
The closeness together - a soul in one.
A bliss for a moment and then it's gone.
A life that was lived, and in words carried on.
The fruit of tempers - the soul, branching, out trees
- And you to be the listener of the light.

II

Traveler

The waves inside good and bad
Shall walk you through the time and hour
And if you feel the sourness of the falling rain,
You alone, have the healing power to regain
What despair you once had.
I'll tell you nothing more then this,
For I am moving also on my tour
And shall feel the rivers - like you - 'of to be',
A traveler of imaginations who wants to see
Landscapes that follows desert and gardens.
Rise up from you averages and follow,
What sun that you see on the clear horizon
And clouds will be in your hair and swift you around
And what you have lost - you will now see
- Again shall be found.
The rivers flow deep and not more in vain,
You may be despair to heal your wounds and pain,
But follow the sun that shines in valleys, on green trees;
So you may focuses your attention on feelings that frees,
Traveler of imageries landscapes, to you no winter hardens.

III

Counteraction

Future counteraction
Blissful moment’s satisfaction,
You on the go, then I - on the go.
Wherever - who will ever know?
If you take everything for granted,
You just don't really understand it,
You'll be here, and then you'll be gone,
Just like this life: carries on.
Just moment's ago I was starting
But now I am actually finishing.
I said, I would never be departing,
But at this moment I'm all diminishing.
The word, I once knew: Amand(a) ,
Dreams away into critics’ propaganda.
Who are halfway there, but never at all:
Only greatest grew big, from them: small:
Future counteraction,
Is perhaps another contradiction...?
But anyway, the now, will never know,
It has this tendency to overflow.