gods walk among us
no here is just a mirror
we creators all

Nothing matters.
Therefore, everything matters.

The world is devoid of meaning,
except for the meaning we give it.

Whatever we do, whatever transpires,
all is an act of

*holiness.

We are creators, we are the ones who create.
We are He, we are She, we are all, we are none.


All is change.
Permanence is found in impermanence.
There is no death.
Only a change in form.

I sit and ride the wave.

For a better life,
we work and toil
balance and struggle
reach and dream.

For a better life
we move in human form
awakening to who we are,
and why we came.

For a better life
we look into hearts
to hear our inner wisdom
to unite with others.

For a better life
we now integrate
our tears and laughter
to focus on new beginnings.

All for a better life
as co-creators in new energies
infused with love
infused for peace.

Now here we are, what have we become?
Our world is not like it use to be... It's
Very messy now, and people not caring. What happen here?
Our world needs our help! What happen to this
Culture? We were suppose to be the dreamers
And  the creators, but wait!! It's not too late.
If* we start now, we could still save our world and maybe the
Next generation can do better; *learn from our mistakes.
Everyone: We're all in this together!!

*Together we can change our future!

My throat blows out fire.
You can't stop this sun burning in my lungs.
There's a light at the end of the tunnel.
A dragon lurking through the shadows.
Enter the unknown and i will funnel magma into your cold lifeless body.
OH NO! my little fireflies! they want to capture you in a bottle!
But the blood of the dragon in you melts the glass that held you.
We have become the mythical creatures they thought only existed in their imagination.
And now the power we've withheld for so long has got them running.
Running into the silent caves, waiting to be saved.
They fear what they not know.
I will not apologize for spreading my wildfire and you shouldn't either.

I wonder if the Greats
Ever knew each other in their time
I know the Painters knew one another
I imagine the conversations they had
What gossip crept through the grapevine?
"Did you know that Van Gogh fellow cut off his ear for his mistress?"
"What a treacherous man"
"Poor soul"
"And that Monet's pictures always look so fuzzy"
"What an odd concept, indeed."
Would Dickinson and Poe be acquaintances or great friends?
Or Mr. Robert Frost and the great John Keats
Would e.e cummings be the laughing stock of the crowd or the hipster everyone else secretly admires?
Painters and Poets, creators alike
Would the two groups clash or join in joyful merrymaking?
Creators not destroyers
Artists and Masters of their work
Both disturbed
And slightly insane
I think
They would have gotten along great.