All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               The walls of the room still were dark, a gray of almost black that once had felt as home but one day, life-season change, it no longer felt as so.                In innermost room of heart and home, she no longer wanted darkness.  She felt and knew a different hue, embraced its changing as […]

“The body says what words cannot.”—Martha Graham _____                The body says what words cannot and through their two, they told.  Endearments and affinities; affection’s show, and true love known in strong and gentler tells; their bold was made to meek, meekness rose to bold; bond to bond, strength to strength, drive and driven breaths […]

               Cold arrived and settled in as sky made crisp and clear, cloudless and still as cold drew moisture’s presence from the air and formed as intricate crystal lattice over window glass of translucent golden glow as light of sun sought in penetration through.                Even within the room, bed, sheets, and down throw of […]

“Love and learning…That’s really all there is isn’t it?”—John Williams _____                Intimacy and openness, nakedness and trust: it was method to their art.  It was essence to their love and, as of bodies in the last—in make—they enwrapped in intertwine, one losing self in other and becoming of a One.  One’s make and lead […]

        Such is the way of Mystics: nothing said and, yet, a known.  Recognition of signs, aware in a sense: faith, belief, and special trust in spite of the absurd.         Recognition, attuned, aware of the signs—she believed and let the Spirit lead.

               She was beautiful in the bright.  She was beautiful in the sheen.  Autumn height lived and passed yet she remained, brilliant in height-hue.                He gazed on her from near-afar as she spoke amongst a crowd.  Gathering of friends and strangers, it was only she that held his eyes: lovely in her presence.  Brightness […]