All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               The soul is ever shifting; like sun and moon, darkness and light, lived soul colors that reveal in battle of between; spirit flame that changes all caught in cast until battle is ended and spirit holds in arrival of day, or darkness’ fall.                 Kiely sensed his changing, a silence different than before—inner thoughts, […]

               “Maybe we went too far,” he spoke in returning fall from high.                She listened, body rosed in glow and energy of after.  “Maybe,” she spoke, “but maybe not…”  She smiled, returning too from a transcendence.  “It is affection and passion of the heart.  Is that not where love begins?”                Neither spoke, but […]

               They sat across at table under clarity of cloudless high-summer sun.  He drank a water, heavy with ice, as she took draw from stronger drink.  Beneath the sun, each felt the heat, and he watched slow build and single sweat bead form and trace in slow-draw fall down side of her open neck.                 […]

               There are seasons in life, like seasons in sky, when little of sun or spirit show.  The light is hidden, veiled, and though it exists unseen; one knows that it is there.                In such season, men go silent, distant, and in solitude and contemplations make restoration of the flame, unseen, behind guard of […]

               Dawn appeared as muted melancholy, morning energy unfelt for many weeks—grey skies and slow fall rain that made dimple-marks on shallow puddles spread before his view—rain, even as little as it was, that would sustain much in the stressed earth around.                There was no wind, and the air held damp, still and cool.  […]

               “Have you ever tried to read a book, over and over, again and again; but never make it far into?”                It doesn’t hit.  It doesn’t speak.  It doesn’t fix your attention, make you think, seem to leave an effect at all.                 Then…maybe from different vantage, moment, state and place in spirit and […]

               In bow of the boat, air rushed fast over Kiely’s form, in press and blow over front and face as she looked forward in sight of path and chosen line ahead; and then, turning back, the wind on back and a pocket of stillness made for breath and rest behind in body’s break as […]