este não é o dia

One day i will say
"today, I do not love you--"
i will let the magic fade,
drift and pull away

like the beautiful old world ceiling I saw
in drift to sleep-- last view of night
sweetness in a tender bed, among
closed eye visions and echoes,
você estava em meus braços

your carefree touch still tingled in thoughts
my skin alive with memory and anticipation
how the present stood still
at the edge of your lips.

você era a flor da lua,
a minha felicidade na ponta da pétala da

One day i will forget the pain of the man
whose fingers reeked of wet plaster
who carved dreams yet to be
because it was his dream;
and i will forget my dreams--

um sonho que era precioso, tenro
como o ar quente de verão na minha pele--
those that held gentle spring rains,
your hand in mine in chilled air, me,
adoring stars because they filled your eyes,
warmed in your smiles that marked moments,
etched them upon walls of my heart.

My dreams were deep wells, boundless
and flames of stars would dim
when i stood in your night shadow,
when summer honey flowers envied
the taste of your skin.

One day i will say, " I do not love you"
this, is not that day...este não é o dia


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Thought
Where is the beginning
Where is the end
Where are we now
Where are we going

What are the chances
That I might turn a page… And find the answers
Turn a corner and see myself holding a book
See myself in the book…observing all creation

Someone found a place
Somewhere in deep space
where light bent by magnetic fields
creating matter …light into matter

There are red Giants white dwarfs
Pulsars and quasars and magnetars
I don’t really know what these are
But I see the light of ancient stars and wonder

And in a place so vast and complex
They live alongside billions of other things
That no one has seen
That no one understands

So who are we among all this
The little people of this obscure world
Yes and more for we know so little
But we see far more…and think of even more than that…

So we fill time and space as we do
We put our thoughts into the emptiness too
Of all that we are and may be what does Nature need?
The one uniqueness may well be … thought

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Refuge

Long is the day
tiring the way
a wake so dreary
makes footfall weary
At last to home and rest

A soft place to sit and a bed
untax a mind and rest a head
and softer still there to lay
against the oncoming day
At Last to home and rest