Where Stones Have Crumbled, Time Had Fallen

Raging waters gashing through granite once out of time settled and slept

The ended of tales then, as battles fought, racing along to yet another war

Quietly the hour encompassed forces of its own and of blade and tombs kept

Under the sun that the flow of hours passed, it turned upon the same, ages before

Once out of eons where tower was dark, sunlight descended reaching its door

 

I was called to bring the landslide upon palace floors and knock over walls

Like a root out of the core of mountain tall, I've touched layers of the sky

There was knowing before winds blowing, now hidden behind stone walls

Hillside ablaze moved under the waters, and islands given to tidal cry

Where legends were made, immortality the key of absent time, they try

 

Sometimes the slow touch of evening shelters an unknown stake of night

And the glassy dark brings the shimmer of ground and wave and lapping oars

Whispering to never extinguish the candle under the stars, twinkling white

Whatever suits the hour hidden behind the stars, take that light to their shores

Where long years have passed, change comes unseen in lingering twilight

 

There exists a power called out of base elements beyond a fixed frame

The measured knowledge aligned but unfulfilled breaking down and sparse

If all beginnings to end and tracked back the end to a foretold magic name

Where numbered days shook off the command and cast their desired charts

Where seasons have returned, their course and reason was but a farce

 

And I danced like a flight of wing touching the wildly wielded of world's line

Flowing like cloud but gathering no dust or shimmer in airs that were true

Have you not been here too? Have you remembered the profound length of shine?

The Golden Flares, the Ever Path, the Towards Orbs, the Spiral Steep in blue?

Where conquests have splintered, another rotation and they are again new

 

They used to walk there and listen to the sounds from a shadowy cosmic comedy

Around the hour that hasn't yet come and the hour won't say, and has no form

The magic is potent and blind, without purpose until the design of base geometry

Then would all be lost if the shadowy stars grow more dim with no light to adorn

Where lunar face comes slowly, dark face stays behind watching for stellar storm

 

Spirit birds float above lighted sea, they're around an hour that hasn't yet come

You cannot make a guess for they appear on request, and the hour won't say

Building upon fringes of scale, must not the smallest wing dismiss, as do some

And to grasp the wind in its distress, you can direct a beam to foster peril away

Where underground streams flow, echoes prove vast crevice black and gray

 

I stand by, I open the windows of stars, doors of watery blue, once upon an age

The willow sways, the long grasses wave, and deep rooted stands the defiant pine

The rains descend under clouded call and stories unfold to fill the empty page

On boundless wake never frail, torrents ever steady on a trail of blazing shine

Where loose sands drift unheard, they gather on the way on the feet of a sage

 

The torrent took on oceans to sail, they will yet be redefined, skillfully mastered fast

Recall the past that ages have silenced, shrouded, but never hidden, certain and solemn

For a long time, far away and far off, almost forbidden, there opens again a distant past

A signal reaches these shores, the day drives the terrain in its course, so speaks a shaman

Where night races and moves at last, but where stones have crumbled, time had fallen

 

And the mountains and rocks of ages settled and connected with waves of wind and dust

Under the continuing wave of time, that time has struck a chord within the hidden shelf

If one walks out on shoreline now, it was a mountain that passed, fallen under the crust

And the broken fall-ways of collapsing ground had rushed up as a darkly shrouded veil

Where a thousand years have trembled, solid lifetimes passed in the flash of hoisted sail

 

 

TBC...

©Iggy 1998

 

The Harbors of the Silver Sea

It was a while back, a long time ago and it was like tears, and shores of languid light.

All along that lost beach of a lost island, of a lost continent, there cut clouds of white.

The place of the hidden music notes, musical detected from those who heard.

Over the waves, under the tides, out of the air and in the sea, was a name or word.

 

Dreams numbered as all the sands of the sea, a silver sea made of water and star.

That footsteps are gone behind me but never leave a world for a love of the sea afar.

Like smiles the waves slide onto the shore, but tears are sailing upon that sea.

I am here it seems forever, ever more watching a shift of lines, strands, and key.

 

And the bird's eye view of the board and reef, signal the visual of shallows to wade.

And the roar of distant swells climb from deeps stirred by a mythical mermaid.

Over the surface, under the misty cloud, and on the waving boat in the sea.

A drone of lament, secret doors, gathering and soaring magnificently.

 

Without the shine, the silver wrapped currents; the deepest feeling of defeat.

There comes out of nowhere, out of someplace else, a call you'll soon meet.

It is certain that any turn you encounter and follow, was already known.

The isolation in a torrent of doom, the silver runes, and a lamenting drone.

 

You may pass beyond dungeon wall, seek escape pass the rippling shoal.

A bruise upon your knee, the distant invite, rewarded with mercy to your soul.

For over the waves, among the fishes, out of stream, floating leaf in the sea.

It is as you find, surrounded by the silver sea, and its harbors await longingly.

And far off in the distance a sparkle laid upon the ground of beams of sun.

That it could be silver shores and ornate planks, that therein untold dreams run.

And after years of searching, there it was, a silver sea that carried me on helm.

That it was the silver sea of mythical portends rolling in ocean's realm.

The densely deeps flow unnoticed of all the waters of the world in this keep.

Overhead thunder rumbles and the dance of silver waves splash from deep.

Under the coral, through the ocean and in the sea, in the silvery sea shine.

Under the water, through the leagues, on the tides, and in the sea, divine.

 

*Walking alone

Shifting of the years beneath my feet

Hearing a tone

And what exists in my world is another

 tale of beasts and armor no one can defeat

 

That is only a call

Which every beat echoes mock back to me

Sands are all silent dull

Washing upon these tears is but the sea

 

*This piece came from two original poetic verses from 1980

and since re-edited in 1993. The build-up for this 1998 work.

©Iggy 1998

Volcanic Riddled Lair

Recalling the view disappearing behind the rain, while earthen shell was hollow

Pursuing an unstable path of the underground world, that only with caution follow

Radiant storms wrought with lava springing and ceasing continuing thus

Overhead thick fog settles and creeps then engulfs and falls as mists to us

Speaking through the spirit of the adventurer, imagination in an unspoken thought

Whispers above the silence beneath the raging voice that tempest has brought

The fire flowed upon terrain, reaching edges of sky and sunk far below

So mazes were formed in stone, deep cracks and gash are now unknown

 

Wrapping the folded earth with rock and tree root, that of its own will expanded

The sparkle sparkling of spirit forming to tread the deadly quest, they landed

Floating for the time where fog and grey obscures the distance stirred

Mists dissolving from the closing heat of deeper, sharper fires blurred

Tracing the disaster of the chaotic quake, the design seemed purposeful in waste

Lower still, slow moving waves of doom rest to carve ocean floor in its haste

Slopes they see, slipping back to flaming pools settling here and there

Old guides having been sent before to seek out the volcanic riddled lair

 

Fiery waves down below had sloped as witnessed in their navigational flow

Descend with utmost caution leading to hidden cave that opened to dim glow

With smoke-like footfall in each careful step, treading cooling lava wave

They were to walk among strange shapes on mysterious walls of the cave

And outside echoes of whispers hiss within, their calls interwoven with the wind

And yet their feet moved as smoke and they'd weave traces as the light thinned

No border of mass exists and no names were given from vessel's helm

Massive uproots shine of deep fallen crystal rain, in a tremendous realm

 

Long gone the recall of another world's prolonged formation they gave the tale

Now gigantic chambers aglow that left traces of flame, that left flares so pale

Slipping back into the skies, to move as clouds beyond surface side

So deep and far down are we, they call, there is no day, night, or tide

Mountainside then sleeps quiet and undisturbed, but must carry onward to mark

The path, the center, until the way leads through the midst of the gathered dark

Blazing flames dwindled to dying embers and dust in the stilling air

A dance of an overwhelming violent rise of the volcanic riddled lair

 

Ancient land, the very ground caught stellar embrace with fury and power

Moving grounds that flowed while waters of sea carried the tide in that hour

And they spoke of magnificent realms they stood upon free

And they spoke of layers of massive stone their eyes did see

Out on high hides the sun, and it touches the glassy, airy churning swells

Upon high still, the surface echoes sonar rumbling of drops in deep wells

The perfect order of timing that naturally became, that ever was

And they took on the purpose to be witness knowing what it does

Blinding till elements gather in shadow and convey space away from solar beams

Broken rock flung as debris, such is their dance of utter dread and wondrous dreams

The most perfect of time and order of all that could ever be

Moving above into the forming expanse of each lifted degree

What would be that the most solid of shaky ground was stayed like rooted trees

Limestone burned then dissolved for the flood did prevail, and they sang of seas

And fragments of light pulsed through from heated silver jewel

The new moon spans the followed light of the coming lunar dual

A voice spoke with thunder and took on with wrath and nemesis abound

Never a cold face in the tides of the nameless sea or surfs in crater found

Belonging to the will of design of wayward shelf and sands

And they said the land shifted and swayed in molten lands

In a tireless roll, underneath discord that revealed a fine tuned, vibrant soul

Self-healing abundant scars and wounds that gave portals shape and shoal

Giant ranges formed and are crumbled in earthquake parallel aside

There awoke another jolt, their feet bolt to the opening vast and wide

 

Behold the imagination fails the magnitude of fiery brew

The most perfect of timing and order we ever knew

I bring these plates in worded form that they still dare

They signal to find a way to the riddled volcanic lair

©Iggy 1998

A Place Of Myth

It was said that the ice formed crystalline pathways underground,

Where no horizon rolls by or finds the subtle arched sky of faded root.

Midnight is not there, and remembering the way is how it's found,

Dream easy, airy tides of droplet stir, inscribed of wings, of wild fruit.

It's all so real, but not as it seems, not as a book of papaya bound.

How was it said that deep below the outer shell was bitter cold?

A deserted plane on the fringes of lore laid out above hollow ground.

Once upon a time it was easy to know, but now how was it told?

And from where from all the world wishes fell, granted back around?

Like some magic has kept its secret, hiding it in clouds and cubic fold.

 

Faraway an oracle is burning the threshold that holds a glimmer.

A place of endless dreamlike waves under aurora's canopy.

Raging fire and silver chords over lighted peaks in sun's shimmer.

Outside the limits of this bluish glare is often where I will be.

Transparent waters reflecting each depth and hosting reflected glitter.

 

Where you found the fountains of life, your name was kept.

When the clock mocks that waiting is in vain, yet no pages say.

Sustained storms crept along in calm outer orbs as you slept.

Paused minute and likewise moments never enter or do they sway.

Ages very slow must have been written somewhere before they left.

 

The buildup of time against only timely patterns of ascendance.

Floating in air cities of a story, it hides from a half of night, that is day.

And long ago its name was the forested earth and moon's dependence.

The paths of gold and the roads of stone aglow, upon each byway.

Beyond our small corner we dreamed and there we were in attendance.

 

Illustrations can only frame its boundless depth, the skirting star.

A land of myth for the written tale, come and pass by, you must set out.

Any signs may tell in carved monoliths to find a way by far.

Such a place exists somewhere from where this place sets the route.

Go to ends, other sides, back to origins of a thousand year memoir.

I say now it's true without a doubt, connect the feeling, it's all too real.

Timelessness and cloud easily flow from some hidden, abundant source.

View those mythical lands, those hills of stilled sands and moving wheel.

Recalled from echoes of the words invoked and spoken of a set course.

The memory is the same, and many have walked through with zeal.

And the place has many a key that we can unlock doors to dreams.

And if the most peaceful place you've seen, there's more still.

Was it always said that this place is set, but not at all as it seems?

Crystal fire for the top of crystal skies, adrift in signal waves until.

Sure as the light of distant moons would spill out in longer beams.

It was once said open gates are everywhere, hidden from eyes far away.

As if wavering under the rolling oceans, and layers of Saturn lost to view.

Though the spell cannot be described it pulls from a thousand year stay.

It's said to be a place of myth, however none claim it, only break through.

It must be living still and maybe always will from now until, past the gray.

 

Woven and unbreakable the myth, the mirth, the mystery beyond bone yards.

Melting the winter, and stirring frost 'tween summer and the blaze of sol.

Sleep lightly by sides of darkness, dream heavy in the timing that time regards.

Sleep heavy outside hours dark, for harmony, reason and rhyme, from the cold.

Always walk through knowing all between sunset and sunrise, and their guards.

 

For behind a secret forest and beyond a stunning horizon you may be unknown.

No rustle in the leaves, no dusty manuscript to be read, dare the restless breeze.

Listen to the stillness, it was a mythical realm that legend had made full-blown.

Memory of such matters as ancient names, thinking beneath the shadow trees.

The silence there gave every clue that you stood in the shrine and was shown.

 

Long arches bore into silver sands upon moon's face, and its face turned away.

By a rift from long time before last many years ago, hearing the winds of woe.

Not knowing the place of who may tell of who may have gone, dims in the fray.

Then everything seems new again, not knowing how, over a white gauzy glow.

Magical realms through a shore of crashing waves past the alignment of day.

Stars still seen where their beams cannot be traced through set pillars now.

Pillars crumbled after the ages raced to places of lost script chiseled in stone.

One can turn away, gaze back to the new again though we don't know how.

One cannot tell where ages have gone, flown to all shattered times and bone.

And sails of a boat bound to steady wave with anchors of light and pearl bow.

 

Awakened, risen from the darkest entwined brace of sleepy corners then.

There's still life, there's still breath and the sense of chaos has lapsed.

In waves again, of sound and movement in twine hanging over forest den.

Beckoned back from what seemed unreal, the realization it wasn't collapsed.

And the number only base, the measure of what's beyond the counting of ten.

Stand fast in the soft sunlight slipping through the pink-white clouds.

Follow the beam again and fear not, it does not go away and always keep.

It will settle upon languid beaches with echoes and closer quiet sounds.

Memory reborn and unbroken, knowing it wasn't in danger of deathly sleep.

And where we're bound, within the capacity of expanding bounds.

 

The geometry of gilded vines of golden lines even under a sea of blue.

Any remainder of hidden temples from roots to levels of even mountain range,

From underground of direct path and surrounded by every sign, that it's true.

The sails collapse in distant doors of water's flow, of mists and shifting change.

So you must glide like light and wind, go out and flow, and you make it through.

 

The myth was spoken but its location a web of silver waters that murmur and sigh.

Heavy pours must have since drowned the dark and rains splashed barren floor.

Upon the glistened abstract of shallow pond in fortress pass, in the clarity of eye,

When droplets fell from reflected sky, rapidly breaking the mass, like repeated lore.

You'll come back, you'll tread the lofty score, retelling past the myth intact as a guide.

The beyond is known, somber tales of dreaded pathways from this life of long.

The belief of such belied testament of dark cocoon in grave's deep side.

It was in the water, past tides beginning to ending truly of who sang the song.

There they continue, never to cease, in the sway of storm, in the roll of tide.

Myth may call upon them all, never to see it cease, and never going wrong.

And streams of light, strings aglow, look about it all, crystalline pathways deep.

Where the myth of strange realms and waters on high at gray gates may fall.

Forever now you shall know, if in darkness you sense the willow weep,

Does it speak, does it know? Will it awaken the memory of pillar and wall?

A place of myth is the secret of many truths that you know you keep.

 

 

©Iggy 1998

The Mythos of Time

Where to begin is not a point of origin or an age of history we know.

It's an emptiness, a void that a string of notes and stones falling as so.

Out of formlessness the ground is made, where does it lead to?

Although it's not within any known place, are you going soon?

But soon is the moment stalled by the unknown sacred ground, airy cloud.

  It went on south, and the shifted sound felt lighter in such a deep route.

 

When the night is spoken and shades the stillness in yet humble timbre flow.

Hours silent in measured rustling of chime and whir of wind in fire's glow.

And the rising of element in the form destined and designed.

As though nowhere came to fall and throws out far off time.

But as it is, far away and quickly amiss, I walk in steps as a guide,

  connected to overhead sky, and of that I recall the phrasing in the tide.

Waves in layers, beats of life, pulses recollect the echoes of a shrill call.

The pulse expanded, formed inside the stillness, and let the sharp key fall.

Upon a bridge giving a long path as if it were a place to follow.

No time was counted and in that span came a light white and hollow.

It echoed back and formed round fortress seen in the mists, tower astute,

  and the phrasing was fixed and absolute, yet soft as any reeded flute.

 

Dry, cracked glass lie below moon's passing, once pleasant now it's strange.

Distant sound has broken the stillness of this range, but nothing indicates change.

Rivers ran wide alongside and sang but now whose thirst do they quench?

Waters drawn into shadow and skies dimmed that not one raindrop will drench.

Valleys in the vague, vantage points obscured, walking on sandy sea, then running

 past faltering dunes of endless tumbling, of a desolation continuing crumbling.

 

There was no time there and I was in that span, I knew the tombs that lay about.

I stayed away for eons and kept light and fire centered and suffered no such doubt.

Empty were the deeps, all before I began, as a sailing starlight retreating back.

If no tomb is feared why not open the door? The barrier stands for light it may lack.

To shade and in shadow, to sleep, but my grasp is strong to leap from whatever well.

I fly out of view to another distant star, to find paths no hours govern, from my shell.

 But how did I come to this? Now which time do I miss?

The ranks of warriors of a battlefield went off to a place I cannot see, to champion fields.

Its warmth and light brushing is left in the wind, and the distinct ringing of shields.

Still standing temples of old, churches of solidarity in a faith long suffering and belief.

Stirring up clouds, round the stirred up leaves and time came to be but a sense of relief.

Travelers of the wind flying by, their secrets having been given freely under spoken tone.

In the scope of encompassing mists, they stood and thought they were alone.

 And caught up outside of moments unknown, a course of no telling was shown.

Wherever the winds turn and fare that they go far off to a place I cannot see,

I still hear something there, the captured breeze let loose by the standing tree.

Varied paths in time had governed the wayward flight of it all, the tested despair.

And having no glimpse of the past or present, just faint whispers through the air.

The layers beckoned from the overlapping arches, strong as stone and yet untold.

Manifesting as an image to the perceiving mind, of fire under a mantle of gold.

 The edge of an era settled into a moment and only some of it was recalled or told.

 

Ages in stones growing weak, and leading to a once rare lament under a dark sky.

Cursed and curses alike in lifetimes that are startling, and once was the desert's sigh.

With silence as a drawn out phase, it fails in strained speech that was broken.

All whispers through the air sigh, all passing sands of the hour, a mysterious token.

If lightning strikes it may shatter and splinter the wooden staff over flat stone of white.

That a copper glowing sun sets to an empty horizon, mocking back to nowhere in sight.

 Night's soft shade has once again dimmed sun's harshest and alternate light.

Through ways bare and featureless, the counting beats away, the timeline presents.

Filling all the gaps in black spaces and dark holes where time never relents.

The ageless face, an ancient time clinging to memory and lost dreams to manage.

And from the highest point, looking down upon valleys of vague vantage.

The lines have been invisible and measures without a cascading fall of it before.

And if a thousand of a thousand score rises with a piercing note, it must soar.

 Such is the circle in a sky that made way for the gate, the steps, the door.

 

And with the terrifying pursuit of fiends seeking to shred what can already escape.

Traveling north above their reach, and through carved mountain, lost to their gape.

The footfall of unnumbered steps had been laid and proved possible.

Measures of buried miles are imagined and calculated beyond fossil.

Outside the lamplight, there can now be seen barely a trace.

Many crumbled foundations, rock, marble, tree, and metric face.

 One thousand and ten thousand more, shifted to particle space.

 

And it is asked; Have you been down that way, are you going soon?

We'll speak of the long ago, there was gloom, and here is the moon.
Maybe you can walk with me, spy out that ancient dig? Where did they go?
And I dwelt in that night's glow, summoned only by countryside chateau.
And she sighs; Wherever I go to now is another passage I will find.

Every day I know they will arrive and it isn't by chance unkind.

 Smoke swirls from hidden pools, above they drift and unwind.

 

They never saw the moon and surely she laughs and narrows her gaze west.
Although with an army so strong, conquest was never worn upon her chest.
The hour goes away, again the night descends, here is the moon.
Everything is so deathly quiet, one can hear a distant, doleful tune.

And dread was silenced and unheard should it echo beyond its keep.

Some turned to face away from such illusion, but they all still sleep.

 Set in stones, in oaths, in paths, in scrolls, an age fell to the cursed deep.

 

The maiden who rose to general in rank, asked if any had been down the way.

Departing soon to five little towns and one where she had lived in that day.

The wonderful palace, a place of sands of white and long shimmering leaf.

A harbor beyond the push from a small quiet port, leading to the faraway east.

The gray of shade caught in stilled moment filtered beams of sun, speaks the muse.

And the moon picks up the later window to be seen of beams that it too will fuse.

 The figures that echo past the forgotten dynasties, have raced back to diffuse.

Calculated the tower may be, details long thought indeed, now long day of last.

Layers of ocean, and many seas give up the redeemed, every single line be cast.

Open hands for any of the lost and the rest that is possible and bound up in a place.

One million of a million score have bound around the visible in invisible space.

All the tombs cold still lay hold, is there nothing time will allow?

Steps past the time from here to that realm of the regal faded now.

 And what decrees were written for the era past the cunning brow?

 

I'd leap and fly around the bindings of earth and hope for fate in the silence I hear.

And in the deepening silence twilight glow lit so softly and whispers to my ear.

And I counted nothing of the hour when time isn't touching all, and falls.

Stand amid the stir of tidal forces, the raging storm fronts crash upon walls.

Run among the rushing opposite winds, float above the fray, find the design.

It's not the sun of the fixed scattered stars that could bring the last flame align.

 Awaiting the oncoming of what has yielded before, and gathered in a sigh. 

 

Cheering that could be heard from the arena now in ruins, was given its defeat.

The barrier of this time's wall to abide, chains from darkness then begins retreat.

When at last the heavens dispel, the mythos, the time from hereto is long indeed.

The grip of a still counting design from here, now, is just eternity the wise will need.

For tales transcended across time and its dark design, its empty works in vain.

 Repeated mythology cast a wider net, a more powerful spell to obtain.

 

Scrabbling aboard ships that always disappear into some strange fog and mist.

They wind around the timed turn of tides that roll away, for all things untwist.

Under fixed stars and the philosophy of lost thoughts or what they mean.

They yet set sail for any truth in the gleaming golden exaggeration of a dream.

Time defeats itself by the forgotten past, a sense of change in the ring of a chime.

 But I'd answer that it wasn't real, the mythos of time.

 ©Iggy 1996

 

 

 

*From notes regarding the verses that touch upon the historical figure of Joan D'Arc,

my spare translations into French of bits and parts:
Toute ces jours j'ai su qu'ils viendraient, et ce n'était pas un hasard.
Ils n'ont jamais regardé la lune, et elle rirait sûrement et rétrécirait son regard.
 
Additional content from 1998

 

 

 

Shipwreck

If once the long ago closed in to a present cloudy sky, shifting into storm, crashing aground

Then truly there was spoken a word, maybe unheard, of the sea under sun's halo and moon's crown

Outside the shores of Ebura, the sunken mast cracks and seagull sleeps and in silence, awakes

Inside the cover of night and shadow, the waters carry to deeper keeps, and even deeper gates

But the gateway reveals hidden ships, whether the storm took them or they sailed up from the south

We'll go into uncharted land from uncharted seas, in a vessel made of leaf and twine, wood and vine

Raising sails against the winds, of stature so strong, a gentle whisper yet powerful is the ocean's song

With the waves wild and gray, the uncharted way, a log of pages written henceforth of heroes drowned

 

Dazzling mirage of luminous waters that drenched abandoned ruins in the northern moor

The sails lowered, drifting ship to coast toward the distant grey sharply peaks offshore

Magnetic pull of pole upward and afar, winds heedless and gathering speed like a shooting star

Ocean's surface carrying the ill-fated drifting oar, and traces had moved many degrees from bar

The mantle of sea floor, and the shield of coral lines the reef of seagull call, heard on the waves

Back from an age we yet lived, a different world underwater, seen down below watery graves

The silent chambers given to the lure of the blue, smitten and sunken, with a finality of high sea

Drifting signs of abandoned ship and left to fall the loose yardarm twice repaired, 'ere the eve

Hidden from sunlight, and the stir of oncoming wakes made by salty mist and whispering rain

Undercurrent surge distorted the secret, flooded wooden plank, spar shattered, rendered unmade

Ill winds, vast cold valley smooth, held fast the sense of doom and following upon lofty sails

Starboard lanterns aligned, a torn sail defied the freak storm to harbors where low sun dwells

And on the port side, anchor, bell and wheel shifted over gateway, the passage can be used again

If ship's features can be moved by shifted tides, passing by knowing when, encountered then

The tide is how time was designed in ancient days, and will turn back between dune and space

In hourly flight, navigate while deep under with silvery eyes, drawn into the current's pace

Guardians of trench and underworld watch from each point of their compressed ocular scope

The sea has placed itself over basins bottomless afloat, and still sunken ship settled on a slope

The wave now broken, glimpse a dense hiatus close to the shore of airy realm, it is known

The ship was in distress from even before, long ago, the damaged vessel creaked and moaned

And water realm took more than day for night of the sand, and sails with, upon ghostly helm

Where seagulls soar and disappeared in isle's mead, subdued by sanded shell and earthly realm

A mirror of ocean reflect a world combined of heavens overhead, the ship rests but on this side

By chance, sailed into storm never to emerge from under a dark vaguely blue shadow, they hide

 

Yet one can find the drifting pieces of a tale, long since dead, beckon with murmuring low tides

Hear the way of sky in a calm shade, to turn gusty and to the call of night, and heed lost seasides

The starlight over quiet depths, and the shipwreck is washed away in hues of blue and white

Settling further out to deeper drop offs, the shipwreck floats under typhoon, with open deadlight

And off the coasts of scorched sand and summer's haze, the shore belies the lonely days upon

In the surf the trees sway, and away the ship still remains while grazing seafloor, boat long gone

Only the drifting oar, and splintered wood afloat can be seen oft times from some silent deck

As if staying, hovering in the waves, over the body of the sturdy amphora cargo of a shipwreck

©Iggy 2000

The Second Shipwreck

Not very many listen to the island winds, or ocean out there, slowing to a still air

Its deep retreat has perked the jungle's ear, moving gradually like the song of Altair

Gone under to fathomless hold, the crew of the sleek gray ship abandoned what was left

Days and nights flow together in another long course as water and steam softens sunset

Rumors told of island sunk, tides reversed, but night under clear skies should be my view

Off the bow a strange call rang out, but not of bell or distress, no sign of phantom crew

Listening again, for those who did, hidden ire, and fierce tidal swells coming in fast

The scattered reed, thick below the surface of angry waters clinging to anchor cast

In the glistening row of flickering lights, sunken ship visible for the outline of rails

If they could breathe the fog as easily as swimming along beach in form of torn sails

Their cloudy visage and frail hands could bank upon the fallen tree logs inland and rest

The faint subtle whispers on the wind of tragedy echoes louder, as the dark waves crest

The aura deep with glow, although proper navigation was heeded in ocean's end domain

But at night, that night, be it another matter altogether in mariner's way, they may remain

And they did call out, in song they named their destiny to sail on, all have been longing

Underwater realm rising, toppling high peak, now a distant road, their voices still calling

 

Middle sea, north beckons from obstructing continent, and the guardians may greet us

For legends stay close to Macedonia and gods who find lost explorers, as they meet us

Unknown corners in trapped waters as abstract as their borders oddly disappear from sight

The sounds of soon coming tides whirl downward, the loss of zeal, against gods we fight

Knowing the briny solitude, once strong wooden spars faded and now they only drift

To speak in ways of the sea, in the timid turn of time came a weak cry vaulting as sails lift

To know the ship is far below, a silent curse, seafarer's tale, sturdy sail have been my rhyme

Leaving the last remnants of sunken ship to this, our abode, they spoke gravely yet sublime

The ship was stressed, the weight exceeded limits and the spirit of adventure held to gold

Alas, it couldn't hold, and the story aligns as others never forgotten as heard or once told

Cavernous depths touched by the laughter through the same waters of each warm cay

Sun pierces through hundred foot hidden anomaly and keeps alight the Olympian bay

As it passes for the hours in between, the ship will sail beneath if only in current's grip

Much has been broken down for the force of the sea, and for lesser tales about the ship

Unspoken is the beauty of the layered sea where star given to the quiet deep, cannot drown

The tear in your eye because we stand in sun's halo and moon's crown, far away and down

©Iggy 2000

The Mountains of Wrath (Montis de Īra)

Far back behind the outlines of rock and treacherous terrain over a deep hidden place

A guide was stirred from beneath a sunken river of fire, its magnitude such as the solar blaze

The anger came from a buried heat that sought to find the twelve gates and torch the plain

And up in gathered swirls of smoke and ashen colored embers fading, quakes and peril claim

 

Fuming far below layers of ground that lay in a dream of clearest jasper, a guide knows the path

Coasts flank the land between two oceans with a hollow sea flanked by two lands as drawn by wrath

Where Atlantis fell, and sank, evenly as slow as its doom, guided nowhere while treading away

Then arising from depths, to the coasts beyond any account of memory in just a mesh of gray

Behind the fallen range of mountain of center mass, beyond the fallen stones of massive pearl

And all behind would succumb to dead zones of stillness below foundations of gems of world

A way one desires to go while seeking the other planes, paths that are never taken beyond the sun

I've went away into hidden grottoes, some I know by name and I see through ways, and fast I run

Three ways to all four directions was something louder than storms, the quiet shook of deathly span

Crossing past the dark unknown mile, while a golden rod measured still its dominance of its land

Lowest sound underground continued around, the shoals beneath waves of ages echoed relentlessly

For they ran under and through ways never traced, and wrath they stirred tremendously

Arch warriors as messengers would not mourn those who fled as unheeded as stone and wall

Messengers conjure only the words to warn, the mountains buried by design, by empire's fall

Where mountains rose up, they were taken down from the hand that wrote the names of twelve

But earth buried the upper way, as safe as woven gold, and in heavy current over molten shelf

In that hand that summoned the mountains to stand as guard, it wielded a terrible wrath

And in justified force, brought mountain ranges from earthen mixture into sunken path

A guide now making haste to speak of earth and fire and sea, came to lead beyond molded clay

The surface sinks where boiling deeps allow, shifting the buried oven to severed root to fray

A piercing bolt shatters the sky, as told in ages of old, the sign and siren call through a maze

Giant mass folded square, again a guide strides forth awakening the essence of wrath in his gaze

Underneath a thousand ranges, pointed breaks through from the base and we know not how

So that a thousand sides round the twelve sides fill with elements of glass and silver upon its brow

In the encompassed thunder and wind, the deep fires burn like a whisper, and hillside trees sway

Inner fire tunnel ways speed through without a break in their course, another gate was made

All the anger from a chaotic blast was then subdued, by that which held mountains of hidden light

Clearing paths and unearthing maximum thermogenesis for those able to intensify mood and might

The mountains, the key to upheaval of buried earth, exposed and cooled, and wisdom its source

Being the last path from below forged from above, broken frames of time for the hour in its course

And ice poles setting a border to encompass all to be lost and to die in a frozen mass

And no guard stood in any created path, even as waters were lost in a dead hazy pass

 

Aim arching far, a monument hides inside the outward obelisk of element subdued, and used

In open gaps of time the guide warns of destruction built up to flooded gorges that lava fused

A single strand of lightning warded off whatever evil spell may have been spoken and cast

To look from afar, on such a place with eyes that see no land, and no sound of waves' splash

Mountains fully grown from darkness itself, rage and fear alas, but the guide and hand that holds

Drew the power away and gave no gem or sand of sea, when darkness cannot sustain its tones

I set out  following the guide, but knew the ancient ways long standing, and deep fires smoulder

The dark deep captured mass already laced with creator's flair and strength of celestial shoulder

 

Ages passed, past days counted and numbered here, past eons of arms yet unclear, unseen

Contrast in mirrored illusion levels off, the pinnacle stabilizes as root of pillar and root of tree

Waters vast until clouds return with them over a thirsty desert, and sometime having no path

For the guide walked and wandered, I'd seen him from far back, in fire waves of the aftermath

Raging just below the surface, there towers over the world, the mountains of wrath

 

 

©Iggy 1999

I Am A Storyteller

Once there was a time, once upon a time, as it is told

We lived on myths, tread over buried ages all the days of old

In the firelight, the direction of the moon may not tell the time

Eager listener, a long hour is but a phrase of mine

Close your eyes and drift along as light grows dimmer now

Smaller bulbs of willow's nocturnal cover burn, in its arched bow

Where could I be? Looking over the distant open of a deep shade

The moon hangs, yet on closer look is another narrow way I face

It was well hidden by bricks of earthen color and cold

A small moon hangs in a characteristic midnight of what I've told

Quiet fantasy, unsung mystic, may have seemed empty where I stood

There suddenly light filled as fire, in a familiar crackling of wood

The mystic lord and magic knight kept a corridor closed

That would lead to a treasure room filled with gold and prose

But the treasure of gold was in the eye, the other in one's mind

A hallway glazed and tempered by furnace, but no words to find

 

I'll weave the journey in what I tell you now, a way back through halls

Open chambers full of time, following a written message on tunnel walls

But it is a story, a journal, a scroll of past events kept long by the sages

And murky shadows have harbored over these seamless ages

The scribes had written on high, now given to the buried deep

When fall fades the warm underground shades amble along asleep

In no direction they keep, in no awareness of time, wandering slow

Outside castle and downhill the countryside of long ago

But a legend speaks, and a touch stirs the air, many a tune is there

Carried on by trees fair and waves made by clearings of nowhere

Above paths of earthen way, you'll hear the chords, echoes seem faint

One chord low, one flows, and a third that crescendos with no restraint

 

Far up past clouds I sang with you, soft in the night's coldly lit moon

Heed that night's hidden grounds stay ever beyond the name of Lune

And the story speaks of solid bridges, rigid and old, collapsed and gone

They are present in shattered disarray, here is part of the tale I have drawn

What had happened that brings such an outcome to slow footsteps to a grind?

Attentive listener, 'twas the grottoes underway with no path any could find

It seems all is dead, passed on, and well outside that realm's frame

Disconnected distances unseen, they were outside the dark, aflame

 

Remember the ages deep beneath, the grip of war fleeting and tenuous

Ages erase and beyond the solid, the battle is sensed far more strenuous

The tale I bring now is of past glory won and peace that prophets tell

All your slightest hopes that fell, I've held them in such a deep well

 

Forgotten places and a memory of something I never heard played

Dimensions high or low, but it's always there, the memory had stayed

We all share the same realm, we reach back away, I speak and I regale

Of my path that I journeyed forth, and where my part is in the tale

If there was no doubt, and nothing dwindled to naught

The door of the unknown may drone on with no thought

But the iron holding fast, a sinister feeling keeps it all locked

An ancient willpower that dove into fire, where angels walked

Eternity vague, certainty pale, deep down once great realms sleep

Up from the depths, harbors their defeat, it's still a familiar keep

It takes form in a faraway edge that never connects, it may seem

Down from the darkness, a world upside, have you seen this dream?

If there is a demand to surrender secrets, the edge misleads our trust

Here and there I've slowed my steps to do whatever it is I must

The mystic and the magic knight have guarded a realm and its name

Their gaze sharp and crystal clear, whatever the ages may claim

 

Under the light of day hides the air of the past never gone

But the light finds a way through, reading the walls out yon

None can say it's too different now, the faded ages claim somehow

Abundant moments of centuries cleared, stones of gray lay now

From rooted willows and rolling shadows the corridor stands bare

Speaking that I'd come back, find this again, but time subdued the dare

The corridor still silent, in the murkiness of thought, well hidden

Absorbing darkness, a dull harbinger to echo something forbidden

If you go down this way to the ledge, brave listener, your senses keep

Shake off the feeling of fear, unease, doubt and pain, and of sleep

I speak of an iron door when it fell, an echo of emptiness continued

Loudly echoing until it too, faded to whispers misconstrued

Out on open lands the fog rolled in, the way beaded like light rain

The knight rode past in a hurried flash, of a time that time can contain

Torchlight reveals long settled stones and all thereon inscribed

Following the message written on tunnel walls, I have ere described

 

To reach out and the words may form and utter words in my mind

If nothing amiss befalls the twilight line of the horizon behind

Our voices bounce around and in answer, our questions as well

And walking outside the dark is a place I will bring a story to tell

 

The way away out and beyond, is to go down further and find dead space

Carrying clouds, hardly a visible path wound, navigating as if in a maze

Sounds muffled creep along, it was hard to find the buried secret gold

But it's the secret of old I hope to hold, given in words I'd told

 

And a place of song so clear, talking, singing softly close to my ear

Quiet tunnels deep and unheard, in a labyrinth unstirred, are near

The mystic telling tales with long pauses, with sighs, rivals mine

For the mystic lived in all those ages, while for elsewhere I'd pine

 

Under the light of star and moon, the hearth kept fires alight

As in a woven cocoon, wrapped away from the sinister night

But out on surface of lake, river and moss, flowed an ocean wind

Count it as a wish, like stars or oceans of fish, let a dream begin

 

In halls there blows a whisper of night, new moon out of our sight

In magic strings and hours in a glass, alas there would be far off light

And if one speaks the tale, the mystic foretold the casting of the spell

Let the strokes of a pen forever mark the wisdom of an uncertain farewell

That age and that realm began to fade almost as it came

The dread that was spoke in dreams but never said, had no name

So softly the story flowed, lofty the senses embraced the romance

In firelight and gatherings of folk, merriment and laughter and dance

But in a while I stood in a dim and long hall, against a wall I'd lean

Yet had I never halted, then never to see that which had passed unseen

Somewhere in a soft candlelight I was able to speak of what was before

Of what eluded the magic knight, what happened in past days of yore

A song in the east, moon in the west, and God's fire just the surface below

A keeper I was called to, from beyond the blue, out of what stories bestow

Great lands and desolate sands over a kingdom no script found redeeming

Perhaps an answer, curious listener, everything has meaning

The fire has gone to ember low, keep them aglow, and I sense no rain

I give you the moments again, and hours hence, all my heart can contain

Because I am a storyteller, I will say that the tale I spoke may seem to fray

Pieced together as I shall always be a storyteller, from so far away

 

 

©Iggy 1989

With notes added to the work dated in 1998/1999/2001

Behold The Darkness

Turning my eyes up into the night, and stargazers alike follow its turning

Vast sea of small lights aflame to rival from far back, the sun's own burning

Stars glow but against shadow they mimic mere candles with distinct sharpness

Quiet falls and calms everything for everything beholds the darkness

And to a window I bring a candle that renders a dim glow

And to a window I focus through the obscurity moving slow

 

Wander within this realm of soft unseen fantasy, let your fingers find

The blanket and hide your dreams beneath it in a treasure secretly bind

You must understand the spell of how the night brings a far off starkness

I find the dreams I long for when the stillness beholds the darkness

How can I fear what is sweetly strange and hallowed like a shrine?

How can I misunderstand the harmless even shade so fine?

In the wake of shadow, deeper than night, the sudden awareness ominous

In a sphere of what holds thunder, we can wonder, for the half world in darkness

A power deep and unknown in height, seems to circle only one half the domain

The gods stay close enough to redeem the hours or the essence of my name

The grounds pull in what the image of night says is old but keeps paths anew

I behold the darkness with a belief that seems unreal and untrue

Ever darker growing, the twilight rolls on barely glowing, I cannot explain

Pulses of the day slowing, air whispers lowly, under a cover that is the same

Moonlight clings to my heart, the connection between solar stark, lunar dark

Gives but a glimpse of the cover of night in what could really be afar

Gates of prophecy unknown, uttered or carved script, no demons dare guard

I come and go there and they keep their distance, they're of no regard

Underfoot there exists gulfs massive and hidden from under the sun's light

But I've brought fire with me in only what I've known in this world's night

Forest tunnels leading to a grotto of an ancient recluse, long forbidden

But in the power of the forest alone, it cleared away what was hidden

The oaks belonged to a world much younger, but steady on they kept hold

I've laughed in the face of dread, it finally rested softly, because I behold

In this fanciful flight that I now tell with the odd recall of an old emotion

The candle glows and shows again a bluish light, and never is heard a notion

That the sun is silent for the lack of proximity to this spinning sphere's sight

Somber dark thick and still grasping to hold the wind to reign over the night

Dark is the giant behind the stars and behind them dark will hide

Deeply hidden shadow, the darkened sky blankets the other side

 

Its touch slowly turns to frost, a darker hour that was never known to any clock

Silky shade caresses hollow beams, midnight will hang and drag for time to mock

It cannot be counted properly, I behold the darkness without the words to tell

If I dream it all, if I walk under moon to behold part of heaven which could be hell

And to a window I bring a whim silent thought that gathers many thoughts

And to a window past the gate, we had walked in a night that is never lost

© Iggy 1990

The Deep Of Dreams

How frail and thin was the night? I thought I had laid down to rest and to wonder.

But was I fully asleep if what I see is true? What walls of disillusion are laid for me?

If what I see is true then it's dimly casting a light, in corners beyond the rain and thunder.

What are those deceiving scenes of hopeful peace in a dark world which I always see?

Around me there is not a soul, not another, this the deep well, the deep of dreams.

 

Could I imagine that I fly when I leap? Very deep and much too dark to fly down.

Then a sense of falling from an endless edge, though I never felt the solid touch of a ledge.

Almost in constant apprehension and a hope that someone would intervene now.

Crossing some torn mountain that lay in shreds of rock, that lead away to wild hedge.

Like a poor, crippled figure of grains of sand, misguided and quiet, I fall asleep.

 

The sense of anxiousness that was bringing me dread, has now abandoned my mind.

I kneel to look at the trail, bowing my head I search backward for the hidden secrets lost.

The trail changes and rises high, I reach its way, but it's in the past where there's no time.

In fading blue, where am I to go, what am I to do? Fragile stone for a step cannot be crossed.

Not even aware and hardly knowing, I cross another gap outside a sheltered keep.

Staggering landscapes and onward halls find me the only one, dark mist woven into the air.

Nothing is pressing me, but nothing settles me, not a sweet slight tune, not a word to soothe.

Seeking with painful effort for something as if it was my quest to find, but was never there.

Dread slopes, hills of rolling misshapen earth, a river that never unwinds is how things move.

In the fragile images of a dream, it's a mightier realm connected to layered worlds in beams.

 

Twelve statues stand in a chamber with a hollow glow, some are dark and some are bright.

A recollection of a faded victory from long ago, now in burial of old, now enshrined in ark.

Six for the day, six for the night, and five more when all is blithe, and when moon is slight.

But too often that hour is gone like the forgotten night, yet midnight holds all in the dark.

From far away a whisper is heard when one cannot hear one's own word, the silence heeds.

Do I believe there's a lamp behind the moon, or is the moon what shields the light from behind?

The eerie plane of a strange paradise, mystified and weary, I regard the hour and for sleep I wait.

Thin as air are the colors yet they never fade, while the same light bends in a dim room I find.

Welcome or forbidden, it sadly slips away with the gray and it escapes to what is an open gate.

Silent and cautious, the sense of apprehension returns and I think sleep has taken what it needs.

 

In a world familiar, in a world foreign and alien, of place and path I'm set on unknown quest.

Unnerving is the cunning cloaked scout that means no harm. A guide that leads without a face.

In a world where my hands have no hold, any question is muted, my words have no jest.

The tale now is that the time counted is time measured that can only lead without a trace.

Into the past one can go, but it's not remembered as the time long ago, it moves like the sea.

Grasping the clouds around my head, radio signals elude me, and soon they come to never be.

But something else beckons distantly and its words pass me by, but a master knows the phrase.

A master who knows where to find the bottomless sea that holds the treasure of dreams.

Set before me like a hundred mountains and a thousand seas hence, the mass is but a haze.

Scarce yet provoking, the vision leaves no doubt but deep confusion, if only it is to me.

There's something uneasy about the way the sun casts itself, and it doesn't burn the same.

Somewhere is something I must fear so much having walked a beaten road of broken will.

And when I finally reach the shore I touch the cold of ice that hint of hidden sign and name.

Lost and forgotten, doleful I try to carry on. Are my dreams I hold what these dreams kill?

Seldom is the hour if I find them again or its shores I reach, I awake to find it was a dream.

Day is still long nights it appears to be, they come to my own realm of mist and grounds of green.

Adrift they fly, they glide by and never regard my cries and time falls outside the dismal realm.

In the anomaly of a crowd, I see them all but only some see me, I am one who is often unseen.

Never standing with those who fall into false belief, and so lost is the way, a ship without a helm.

The dream of home I have never seen, it seems unreal, until the time comes again to dream.

When the wind can bring a storm but not a yielding air, a world of feasts of madness and fear.

Still from all of that I stray, seeking only a place where the world isn't empty and dark.

Sometimes out there, though surrounded by deathly tone I hear, a tone softly melting away

  the hardest voice of judgement in my ear.

If chambers of shrine and hall are empty I'd bring candle and wreath for a simplistic mark.

How I have known, I've learned to explore, and with such the skill, I've mastered the dream.

 

Everything is too troublesome to remember and memories are so dear, one can lose the way.

How frail and thin the night, it strays near the mind's edge, flowing shallow waters over a ledge.

Return me to a place, home was it? If only in a day or an hour that in my minutes fade away.

But I can be spared the doom of whatever may be hidden in darkness, earth and sea to dredge.

I think I hear someone talk of the deep, mystified and with ease, I fall asleep.

 

 

© Iggy 1990

Working titles for this body of work were 'The Depth Of Dreams' and 'Lost And Forgotten Dreams'

Once Upon A World

Inside a shell, my fire is deep and closer to core and hearth.

But upon the wind, and the top of polar sea I'm a beacon of melting ice.

Giant hills rise, small stars fall, this is the moment I mark.

And plates become pages of stone, as leaf is my design in seasons twice.

Moon in soft eyes before I awake to winds of forceful sighs.

The ultraviolet pulse that keeps a rhythm of time,

Like a bottle of sands, a sand mass inside glass, a mirror for both sides.

Embers in shallow wells, and healing rain to low fields of mine.

Thunder sounds deafening blasts and quake, in a blink of the eyes.

Day, dawn, dusk and night, lightning quick, lightening break and tides.

 

They fade into sleep when I seem fainter and cold and I make myself fade, too.

From ice the thawing ripple of pond in mossy mold is a place found in solitude.

Rapid streams down the treachery of slope and peaks touch the colors of midnight,

For a long span of eon, edges of sea far away held in an image captured by light.

 

Blue is an echo of frost, I sense its foreboding drifting around my feet.

Under faltering clouds, unsettled mist and stem of unknown root finally meet.

For quiet moments in peace, the back of the sky falls into sleep, behind cosmic hands.

My eyes are open but my head is in bewilderment, and racing through strange lands.

Distant moonlit clearings where I keep shards of quartz, pieces of gold,

To sunken grounds where path fell to those strange trenches, those places so deep.

Under vine, I'll sense portions of life out on storm-scarred hold.

The world has designed more than riddle and puzzling chasms could one defeat.

The wish was true, the void a lie, back to the first page the world did speak.

Inside a shell, an echo is the sound that traces around,

Heard past the giants where stone mountains crumble under a sand time.

Within what is home, in eternal flight, wherever the echoes abound.

Quickened and exaltation at length, islands dive into polar seas' icy clime.

Oddly palm of hand extends watts in aura's light, aura's shine.

 

In the past, what was before, on aimless tracks unknown and uncharted view.

While live pieces of star and flame buried in years of what one recalled or knew.

Sailing ships and wheels of twine set out to no purpose, no dream, only strife.

The grim echo faded yet, and flame and star I see has come with new life.

 

I'll guide you through passages of flame and ice, surely once, maybe twice.

Both somber dark and living gleam, of pages that never cease written by the wise.

With all the white glare, with all the ranges of heat, the reason hidden in a sea.

I know, I understand, I became, I am, always to become, always to be.

 

I was once a mere flame, watching the gray of sky and cloud and clime

In a shell with fire deep and glow, once upon a world, once upon a time.

©Iggy 1988

Enter Hyperborea

I move around giant leaves, hung from prehistoric trees
I watch upon a buried small trove, and silver web wove
Forgotten crumbling fortress abode left for time, nevermind
Why have you a shadow in your eye, past window dimly by?

Silent watcher, fearless archer, wary traveler being alive
I once advised to set all those faded relics of sorrow aside
Reflected like the water of your tear, but they never died
I was drawn in, but I was in a fog of vertical oceans wide
I thought that they would blend with the horizon aligned

Dusk swelling toward an ancient door, in forgotten lore
And the dust settled then, slowed time in grotto and den
Doubt moves across your brow, knowing the here and now
Open gates, this is where destiny, fate and legend awaits

Ahead you'll see the fall, and ahead you'll hear every call
Thinker of thoughts deep, easily tell me dreams you keep
Restless thinker so deep in thought, and spoken was not
Sit by over here, close enough to hear a whisper so near

I'll tell you a thing of ancient doors and forgotten gates
I've seen and heard visions and songs gliding in the haze
A gloom of a yesterday was hard on me and I cry, our fates
My soul rides an air above a point, and hovering it stays
Slight the sound of cricket, maybe only a breeze in shades

Recall the storm in a bygone night, and it was like a sigh
Striking it was, when moon falls, and ocean climbing walls
The wild was brushing the skies, and a wisdom in your eyes
Going back to tidal wall, seven seas long, seven drop fall

The way the sands had drifted into remnant of an old shore
Passing through another ancient arch designed of a past war
The gate on this passageway is fallen on broken stone floor
And here I know you won't forget the secrets, knowing more
Walking slowly past you know where to go now just as before

I can give you such a thing and I will try to make it so
Share my heart's realm of life that I would possibly know
But as I see, before I came to this tale I tell, so curiously
I can follow you hence, because you gave all of this to me
If I breathed new air beneath fortress old, it sets me free

Finding I'm standing alone, lost ruins and relics of stone
You went the way I came from, this side still the doldrum
Just below the surface and edge, broken promise and pledge
Solemn in the span of ancient field, nothing upon to build

Frozen in a time I've never stood before, weakens the door
I'm soon to flee swiftly to escape, of this ancient landscape
I go with you unseen behind, you're gone to nowhere I find
When you turn around to be near, I am the silence you hear

We see outside of time and inside towards the firelight
If the winds mock and rush past marble of a lofty height
Something stirred untying a lock of ribbons golden light
That what belongs to forgotten gates to open on the night
Not a sun or moon of rich color hue, put yarns into sight

The door ahead, afloat on airy fog but rests in lava bed
Canyons of murky moon half, sands of dusky moon draft
What we see of clime, outer rift yet another hand of time
Forgotten fortress appears, once the icy wind disappears

In the wake of tide is wreathed of salt and silken thread
Stay fast alert and then so sleep between peace and dread
Waters are sad here because tears line their pooling waves
Three linear beams finely tune eight songs below the shades
Along they tread in time lingering past doors of the dead

And here is where the doors lead, of all paths in between

When we can find the way back, for this way and for that

Ancient is yesterday, forgotten must be undone of decay

Area span moves in one place, but stays allowing a way

© Iggy 1990/1994

Working titles for this body of work were 'Ancient Doors And Forgotten Gates' and 'Enter To Exit'

Exist

I've been summoned here, Naphtali connected to the signals I keep
Time is a repose, slowed to sleep, and disconnected from the deep
It was silence but now a bleak murmur floating on the grid line
I call it web and vine, air and void, counting three, six, and nine
Outside glass-like gate existence is never under slumber's spell
A freely moving sail, above the hours, entranced by moon so pale

Name the sad moment a long lament, it extends, asteroids will find
The mercy of gravity remains, trailing behind, stable orbit unwind
A force that never dies, I keep at random speed somehow by choice
I merely exist whispering from far away, and subtle is my voice
I found the iced sphere on the last roundabout and it's now lost
For the same stellar course crossed never changes but the frost

Endlessly I find thousand endless journey
Is silence something even you cannot keep?
If I merely exist, amusingly I am bored
My view through this long window, turning
Surrounding the majestic titan of amber deep
Fountains in radion where beta rays soared

In an awkward circle of orbit, and as far as the eye can see
Reaching a state of solitude for me, remain unknown I'd be
In distress and radio path clearing away the dusts of time
If I exist, I knew the sign, a path through peaks I'd climb
But so disregarding is it now in obscure distance below
If I just exist just to know, languid it feels, and so slow

A hunter I am not, a hunter is not my name in red glow
But lava pools of fire poured low, magma stirred below
If I exist, I can't tell if it's too late, so unsettling now I fear
In lunar shade awake and near, a signal once again I hear
Emerged they sail upon waters that reflect reddish skies
I muse within a strange realm in its rise, with weary eyes

In this what is called night, I wander along
The terrain is unmarked as it is yet unknown
Made by nature's surge and era's end so pale
As to exist, a moment spoken through ages long
Inside a furbished theme, outside frequency tone
Of giant fragments nova made it's a flowing tale

I merely...exist, and all of a drone it seems
I hear nothing outside of continuing beams
And often they faintly and weakly glow
Over and out, your answer is very slow

 

 

© Iggy 1994

Spirit Force

Origin, I cannot say if I remember your slightest embrace
As there is no recollection of that, let alone your face
Are you alone? I wander the forest, I tread the night
Indeed, it is I, who watches only the smallest light

Is it my years that bring to me no recall, in my eyes?
Is it you, Origin, who had found the fabled paradise?
Where I watch from an outside wall
A low wind murmurs, and that is all

Origin, I cannot say if I remember a smile of your face
There must be dragons to slay, and castle to scale
Because I sense a kingdom in ruins and conquered place
And so there must be deep oceans of darkness to sail

Origin, I grasp and I do try to guess
That out there in the distance immense
You catch the echo of a word
The edge of my verse unheard

In the strange night or in the point of its eclipse
I stood among dark ones, amid the shadows of night
I knocked on doors asking in the shade of warships
But unseen I fade back away, my hands clutched tight

Whether the splash of sun on mountaintop
Or in earthen stone, my light burns hot
In so many a night, so many alone
Holding nothing but flesh and bone

I mirror life in ways that reflect dense distant suns
A flame dancing past the elements of expanse I trace
I turned to find you saying greetings from the high ones
Saying no goodbyes in a dream instead of empty space

Origin, quietly I will say
Only a question, if I may?
Where falls from the forest tree
The living spring it used to be?

The brush, weed and thorns have made my skin as bark
In the rains of clouds far below the roof of sphere
Deep down I tell you what I see, and I hold your mark
If just in a single drop that such is manifested here

Origin, are you blue? Do you remember me from a star?
The ages have made deep trails that lead away afar
And small ripples or waves in a sea
Origin, are you alone? Or is it me?

What burden do I carry, so long a time, I cannot say
I hear in my soul what instructs me to give it to you
But out of fear I stay silent, passed times that betray
My life and ages past have known the same, heavy but true

I would love a mere glimpse even if it is in vain
I would try to ease the wounds of those in pain
A hint of ways to spark dreams
For whatever to them it seems

Now floating the clouds seem dull as the night draws on
I turn to gaze longing for a half-forgotten idea of home
A page or two of a story with no single command to belong
A thousand more the heavens bear, treading along the glow

And your thoughts all the wise have longed and sought
Worlds, and realms of magic, you alone have wrought
In your hand caught, you already know
Of the hosts, my fire is like the snow

Who are they that build winds that sweep, and willows weep?
Faraway crystals that sparkle through a telescopic glass?
Upon the waking bough there's promise of bloom and leaf
Alive in a flame we weave, on top of cloud's soaring mass

I know your ways, springing the waters of peace
When I'm a pale flame, you name the veil of seas
Hidden in waves, bleak is the lair
But to others, nothing is there

Do you draw me from grief, as beams settle in empty room?
If comes the crash of avalanche you understand hopes I keep
And if a shadow of shadows descend you brush away the gloom
With you in quiet speech, I vaguely hear memories that sleep

I've known the significance of shine I try to cast
I am one who keeps a fire, blue middle flames last
I cannot say if I remember you ever being here
Maybe in deep memory unlike numbers of year
I would ask if I knew what words to pray
But this recollection will never go away

© Iggy 1993/1994

Working titles for this body of work were 'Ghost', 'Eidolon' and 'Origin (Father)'