Ronaye Hudyma's lifelong career was in the entertainment
business, as a solo
performer in the medium of stage, television, and nightclubs across
North America, the Orient and beyond. including a command
performance for the Prime Minister of Canada and
tours of Japan, Sri Lanka, Hong Kong, Acapulco and Mexico City.
YOU SHALL NOT FADE
When the Seasons are measured on my face and settle across my brow,
and the rattling bones of Winter moan with bent and broken boughs,
When its final breath and hoary death is a shroud hanging o'er my
You shall not fade. The masquerade is... only the form will die.
When Autumn looms, confetti colored leaves start turning brown
in a grand ballet—their fated way of returning to the ground.
In the journey back from whence they came--a secret lies therein--
You shall not fade. You always were and will be once again.
On zephyr breeze, the yawning buds will herald the coming Spring
with butterflies and buttercups and mountain streams that sing.
For eyes to see and ears to hear, lies the secret of all forms--
You shall not fade. Within the seed you are the yet unborn.
Summer smiles on fields of daisies laughing in its face
trying to outrun the sun, but destiny awaits.
What comes along, will also go within a world of change.
You shall not fade. You always are, and you alone remain.
How many centuries in a day?
Quiet anguish on English Bay.
I watched the sea rush to the shore, like you rushed to her,
'til I could watch no more.
I saw you look like lovers do--like when it's me that's holding you.
In a moment of eternity, you glanced, then turned away from me
and through the salty stream that stung my eyes,
I saw you mouth the word “goodbye”.
The wind blew a requiem, then held its breath
as the sea grew still and I fell to its depth.
Falling deeper upon itself, it said I AM within myself.
I left you where I died that day....
with the empty seashells on English Bay.
Buried in the rubble underneath my feet,
Coming out of silence, a heart still beat.
Time is not forever. We came apart, then came together.
Not unlike Lovers, the rain and pavement meet.
Pages from the book of memories crumble in my hand.
Wastelands of my mind's estate I dare not understand.
Time slips through my fingers, yet your face will linger
'Til all that ever was becomes a humble grain of sand.
Rising from the darkness of a dream rich night
with watchful eyes awake now, welcoming the light.
No, there are no answers. We were only dancers
moving to the rhythm in the dance of Life.
on my lips as I traced your mouth with mine,
On my fingers tips loving thine own;
on the breath of a moment,
still delicate with the dust of yesterday's dream.
WARM UPON YOU
You knew me by heart, by Braille's touch,
by artist's palette, and painter's brush
that colored you in crimson hues
when want was warm upon you.
You were the singer—I the song
guided by the Maestro's baton
like Starbursts in the Universe,
the music warm upon you.
The prelude begins
descending in adagio,
dusting bare heads of trees who
stand as do a choir of novice nuns
humbly receiving their celestial habits;
Falling flakes of visual melody,
sifting through bony fingers of trees who
stand as do a clan of cloistered monks,
palms outstretched in prayer
receiving holy communion.
And the music plays on into the night--
notes dropped from the unwritten score of the sky,
filling the air with too familiar strains for the ears
of an aged earth.
Pure in deed as in color,
A soundless cadence
sent to quiet the land and the hearts of men.
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