A Cloud of Love

A Cloud of Love
A Cloud of Love – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

love is never diminished when given freely,
it is only expanded, compounded, and unfolding
until it encompasses
everything
I and We will give until
our hearts burst,
but bursting forward and outward and everywhere
expanding
and compounding
until
every sad child
every broken heart
and every tear shed
is healed
and burning with desire
to give freely,
like a cloud of electrons floating above a shining metal sphere,
a cloud of love
encircling the earth.

© 2020 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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Swoop and Sail

 

flock_birds_flying-sky-noise
Flock of birds – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

 

 

a flock of birds dancing in the blue sky
every one turning in unison
entrainment in flight
creating a new entity,
disbanded at nightfall,
but they and it
will return
and you and I will
witness
the dotted sky
a projection
of what we will be
someday.
hold on tight
and we will swoop
and sail,
to where the light
always shines.

© 2020 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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Not Just the Snow

not-just-the-snow-has-fallen-wtrppr
Not Just the Snow – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

I am going off to war
to a far place.
I have never been
away from my village.
well here I am.
the sun is the same
but nothing else is recognizable.
we have our orders
and we begin to ascend the hillside
we are to engage the enemy—
what enemy?
how can a foe be someone I’ve never seen?
progress is slow
trudging through this incline of rock
and newly fallen snow.
a sharp whistle
rings through the air,
I cannot breathe.
I fall without warning
my legs have left me
I turn to get up
but I cannot
I see my blood pour into the snow
sounds are faint
and
I am growing cold
the air is thin.
I cannot tell you
how I wish I were home
next to the hearth
while you carefully place the trivet.
I try to breathe
my chest gurgles
your beautiful hair
the smell of scones
my brothers charging all around me now
that strange whistle again
a soft thud near me
oh the fragrant tea
if it could warm me now
you’re humming old favorite aires.
why am I here
I forget
did I ever know?
how was our love
not enough?
it was for us.
I cannot keep the tears away
I am thinking of you,
after all
I am here to ‘keep
our way of life’
to shutter you from
the hate
and aggression,
but I have failed,
my day was lost
before I hit the snow
if I could but kiss your face…
instead I see the lights going out
all around me
friends are falling
how will we keep
the world safe
I hear faint crunching boots
but I am weak,
my face is pressed into the cold
at their feet.
will I see you again
my love?
my prayer is whispered
faint swirls of vapor barely escape
my lips,
a quick sip of tea
and I will gather with my fallen comrades.
so when I’m gone,
please keep me in your heart,
for not just the snow has fallen.

© 2020 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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The Greater Prize

drawing of a simple light cone
Light Cone – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

 

the packets of time
once free flowing
are compressed,
but my life
has purchased a great spoon,
and I will set about to stir
the galling packets
and
play mischief with
the arrow of time,
I will not obey the direction,
or take note of the outcry.
I stir the cauldron
and I am oblivious to the chaos
I will stay outside the light cone
I will inhabit
the vast elsewhere
and I shall
hear eons of music played
all at once
every note that you and I have imagined.
if you wish to run with me,
you must abandon
everything,
then pick up the spoon and give a stir—
watch
the arrows and their muddled vectors
swirl
a great soup
of every instance,
never imagined side by side
but obscured by our
newfound hobby.
there will be a serious comeuppance
but you and I will be unavailable for
the forfeits.
we will have our eyes
on the greater prize.
turn now
walk with me
as we enter paradise.

© 2020 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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The City of Prayer

marble
Marble Dream – © 2020, Patrick Canganelli.

 

Two eyelet wounds
ground to enlightened opulence,
see in the marble
the frozen, crushed lives
of thousands,
preserved forever.
The architect sees,
but does not hear
the carbonate voices
dug into deep trenches,
gurgling up their
sounds in enchantments;
the narration of the past
which looms above us all,
the legacy of vertical and horizontal
prayer.

(Excerpted from The Noumena, page 23, © 2007, Patrick Canganelli, available at Amazon.com.)
© 2007 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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We Travel the Sky

lattice-and-spectrum
Lattice and Spectrum – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

 

so in our youth we travel the sky
and
grow to find our passports to
the stars,
souls criss-cross time and space
in one countless moment,
but truth is trapped inside the hidden dimensions.
my roadmap only talks of galaxies
and the hot molten spheres
still generating precious metals—
where is even the
briefest hint
of how we collapse into
our inner selves?
I have searched far and wide
for a spell
to take me
to where you and I have always known
what matters.
shall I
beseech a vortex
to open up
and swallow us all
and latch
the hate behind us
our inner place has no unkindness
I wish to zoom down to the bonds between
the lattice,
I will reach out to everyone
our arms will form the most magnificent crystal,
formed of love,
our new structure
will be impenetrable
and we will set about
to latch onto
everyone
every single brother and sister
I will only see
our outstretched arms
and marvel at
the color of
the crystal as it
fans into the spectrum of God.
there is no limit
if we can but peer deep down
into the hidden places
they
shall
not
be
hidden
anymore,
and the crystal will
be us, and the stars
and galaxies,
and we will
fill the void
from now
‘til
ever more…

© 2020 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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The Summit

colored pencil on Bristol board.
To Leave My Door Ajar – © 2009 Patrick Canganelli.

Still transcending
A thousand moments
My mind has sailed;
Carried off to a place or two
Where rest makes quiet
The shivering platitudes within.
Engaging my longings
With a swelling power,
The incidents passing
Without the regret
I’ve left for others,
I have stood still
Too often to count
Among the living,
So I coax
The passenger fistful
To plead my triumphs,
And bear me up
Among the pitiless;
To leave my door ajar,
By grieving only
The fleeted memories
I’ve left to encounter.

(taken from The Noumena, available at Amazon here.)

© 2012 Patrick Canganelli.

The End of Day

grasses at beach
Grasses at Beach (posterized) – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

 

At the end of day,
I walk through emerald blades to the water’s
edge,
I catch the glimmer
of heaven:
sapphire sky
opal moon
flecks of silver floating
on
an amethyst sea—
these rarest of gifts
before my eye.
Astounding beauty
that I call home.

© 2020 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.
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By the Darkwood

By The Darkwood.
By the Darkwood (acrylic on raw canvas) – © 2007 Patrick Canganelli.

 

She is a reflection of herself:
arms at angles to her arms,
feet at her feet,
a pool unfolding about her folded aspect.
Her world a reflection of her
inner aspect,
which brightens the watch
for others in her style.
She is in her style.
She is in her reflection.

In my reflection,
a thought on her:
colors to match
the unthinkable.
In the unthinkable hour,
a hint of gold and blue,
of pinks to dare the hues
which haze across her smile;
a way to show the
bounty
of hidden-treasure eyes.
A thought to match the unthinkable.

An image of wings, or clouds
which promise wings,
the mosses grazing at her perfumed feet,
my memory delays the waiting-agony
till she appears again.
A lily, a flower,
a blossoming keeper
of fairy blood,
whose destiny calls hundreds
to meet in their secret glades.
(Excerpted from The Noumena, © 2007, Patrick Canganelli, available at Amazon.com.)
© 2007 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.

 

My Dream

Seascape
Seascape – © 2020 Patrick Canganelli.

 

My dream
is the hot molten
gas of a star
whose flames
lick the faces
of planets in my mind.
My dream
is the sea,
where words are crests
of waves,
silent rhythmic lines frozen to the page;
iceberg tips
promising
ever larger visions.

© 2007 Patrick Canganelli, All rights reserved.

(Excerpted from The Noumena, page 62, available at Amazon.com.)
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