I
these dreams I hold dear

Fear of consumption
again
of diversion
from that upon which I
dream in the eve
of a soft summer's slumber.

Stepping back I
listen intent,

wrap my cloak of
not looking
about my breast,
a shield freeing
me to want
nothing from no one
giving of myself
what I will
and only I deem.

A cloud mist veil
(but never that shell
of old again) through which
I watch, wait, want

dreams for us both.

II
Inspiration even
in silence and distance.

III
For four years
the day been comin’.
As it nears
my spirit calms. I
loved you well
in death and distant
in life,
my older brother
who will be
younger than I.