Posts

Words

Image
I became attracted to Mystery at a very young age. I had some pretty deep thoughts for a young person, and at nine I was pronounced some type of genius. I'm not boasting at all when I say this because the intelligence has been more than a curse in life. It's hard to relate to people when you read them so easily and you realize that most people are just not that deep. Minds that are wasted on the mundane with little love for what hides behind the darkness within themselves. For me, I found words. Words are my gift but I keep alot of them in because they are not all pretty and laced with shiny things. Another reason as a reader I prefer the mysteries of runes over the tarot. They are more than just symbols, for they are in fact language and mystery. I go into the darkness to find words. Words that wound, words that heal, words gathered from fragments hidden in the shadowy depths. A form of madness that brings about beauty and ecstasy. A curse like this is not for the faint of hea

Think Of Me When You're Away

Image
Do you think of me when you're away? I think of you every day Miles apart cannot destroy our love, I can no more forget you when I cannot walk the miles When the road bends to meet the sky, there sets an image of you in my eyes The rain then comes to water earth's fertile soil The heart grows, longing, as the soul toils How the miles my love, could never measure these thoughts of you, the memories treasured Do you think of me when you're away? I think of you every day Miles apart cannot destroy our love, I can no more forget you when I cannot walk the miles Please think of me when you're away... ---Matt Buchanan

Morning's Song

Image
What song is it that morning sings, that without darkness would have knowledge of the words? Beyond the shadows evening brings, comes the singing of morning's birds. Singing, the night is far spent, let us rejoice in the rising of the day. For the sun has given us this marvelous light, to guide us in the way. Come let us renew our souls in the great river of unknowing. There waters of life forever flow, winds of change are ever blowing. As the winds pipe songs among the reeds, we dance away the darkness. The birds are singing midnight's songs to the morning sun, as we frolic in shadows. Dancing into being, the shades that give birth to the infinite, the eternal... ---Matthew Buchanan

Shades Of Midnight

Image
     Most people favor the sun, but as for myself, I favor the moon. Tis there we embrace beneath the astral sky and dance in the spiral of being. Your kisses on my breath, your hand on my chest, my heart beating to the rhythm of the mysteries. Beneath the midnight moon you nurture me, and heal the wound that stole my tongue from the fires of creation. You whisper songs into my soul that only the wise can hear and understand, as we rest against the bosom of night. Together we drink the sweet nectar of paradise and ecstasy as the earth dreams, and men sleep. Our tears greet the nearing of dawn as the ocean, for we know that soon we part, as father sun will steal us from our dark ecstasy. Our love fades with the coming of the light, but is forever reborn in the shades of the mysterious dance of midnight. Our timeless embrace unfolding into infinity... ---Matt Buchanan

This Moon

Image
     I wish I could be right here beneath this moon, dreaming. She speaks life into me and draws me from my still grave. She kisses my lips with a tongue of fire. She pulls me from the waters of death in a luminous embrace and steals my breath, to dance with me on the clouds... --Matt Buchanan

Beauty's Constellation

Image
As I gaze upon your beauty my love, you are as the bright sun at dawn that drives out darkness. As darkness fades, I behold your luminous reflection on still waters, and my heart leaps for joy. You are as the moon full on a midsummer eve, the soft light that embraces lovers. For you my love, the wolf cries out for beauty's fullness found only in morn's first hour. You are as a star shining, as a flickering lamp dancing in the endless night sky. A twinkle in the eye of beauty, a flash of inspiration moving minstrels to song. If I were a painter and the sky my canvas, I would paint your likeness among the starry constellations. A beautiful, shimmering goddess, your beauty would never fade. Then the eye of the universe would ever behold its queen. ---Matt Buchanan

The Withered Flower

Image
     Hello there little flower. I almost passed by without noticing you, but you compelled me to stop. Your stem dry with withered petals seems frail, yet you're still growing and thriving and you're smiling at me. I pause a moment to reflect, and think "why do people mostly notice the "perfect" flowers and fail to see the withered ones?" How can they not see that clearly your withered petals have a story to tell, and the shades that they form when my shadow casts over you reveal a symbolic script that only the heart can read? You like to speak this way, with hidden secrets, yet the ordinary pass over you because they fail to see that they too are like flowers withering in the noonday sun? Every shadowy line tells me a story, and I cannot compel myself to pass you by without reading them all. I SEE YOU, AND YOU SEE ME. You have such a beautiful story to tell, and I am glad I have stopped to reflect. I pour water on you to help you grow, and suddenly realize,