Christian Thomas Scott

By nightfall did we reach,
And so begin our destination.
As though I would, at least, assume it was a stable course.
Though unsteady was the travel.
...

Words are but a shallow well,
With strength to delve within their source
Of power, in the heart and tongue, and long continuations.
Removing logic from the mind,
...

Slipping sand dunes, ice cold sundown,
Windblown waves and soft-streaked bay.
I liked when you were better off and
Loving tiptoe tempest tales,
...

Let us break our bread with travelers,
And feast on ashen ruin in the face of stolen graves.
To them a nighttime stroll is nothing more than simple footsteps,
A candle in the cradle of the sea.
...

Tilted over sky and earth, as but a passing,
Till in grace and in an instant,
You have overthrown the river, as
A hiding place and refuge, for the lost.
...

Some branches,
Worn with intermittent hands,
Have grown sturdy. In order that
Time might be spent
...

she, in life so softly written,
moves between the lines, and lives,
surrounded by the wind,
so softly carried by the wind.
...

Stopping by my way she did address me:
In such gentle spirits were those fleeting glances that she gave,
I should've stayed forever in her hands.
...

Tell the falling winds
Who hold the hands of winter,
Of a newly rising age,
Under slowly setting sun.
...

Moth bent flutters of a breath,
Yet silent as a whisper, on the wind,
And in the trees. Yet growing ever quietly.
Voices in the heights and in the mind,
...

I told the walls, I'm going out
But I'm sure they already knew.
I hate to leave them, as they tend
Towards growing lonesome, so lonely.
...

First, there is the primary means
By which we navigate this realm,
And all others, are without a doubt
Inconsequential. For only by the language of
...

I have seen the branches waving,
Blurry lines of color
As the streetlamps flicker by.
They follow as I go, yet not too far ahead.
...

Autumn fell upon us like a whispered summer breeze,
On the nights when we were chasing headlights,
Searching for the dawn.
And every fleeting sunset was a journey to the stars,
...

First came dancing, whirling, prancing,

Driven by the years advancing.
...

More often than not, Oh! without a doubt,
The great scheme of and all things,
Will be viewed at length.
Produced by, and for whomever
...

Intertwine my fingers with the moonlight,
And rouse my mind in early strength to bear,
The view of autumn morning's crisper sight,
And lace my feet with tender unwound care.
...

Presently, they followed bard and whim,
To evanescent tangles, spritely tales.
Bought with fortunes,
As a little time is worth the grain of deep.
...

The bitter chill of icy breath
Sweeps lightly over passing day
And marking willful sadness takes
The new approach of scornful daze.
...

The feet that pad on mossy earth
Through gilded forests, rimmed with green,
The shadows flit through sunlit air,
To dance upon the frigid streams.
...