I think love is what we need in the world.
We needed it so badly we created it. Then we fought over it. And we corrupted it. It even became a disease. Until we found it had a medicinal effect. It could heal.

Love seeps into the ground where we bury it. The decay leaves traces of it. So is love also in death? Love is powerful indeed.

If love can find its way in life and death, it must not be mortal like us. Perhaps we can call it Divine. It must be what we see when we look up to the sky.

That’s why we describe it in so many ways. It flows like the blood in our veins. And when we no longer have the strength in our heart, it becomes the soul of our own.

How can this be?
These vessels swim on
A cellophane sea

It’s art,

As they move
Slowly constricted
Somewhat restricted, on
A cellophane sea

The crane swoops down
Barely misses a fish with
Tissue paper fins
It would have
Been a meager
Lunch

The eye of
A paper mache
Hurricane moves in,
Slowly crawls
It flows,
It flows,
They all survive,
On a cellophane sea

Took a hand
Not meant
To last

Released its hold
Never looked back

One day, one day
How will it feel?

I’d keep holding
On for as long
As you'd let me

It could be
Real this time
It could be
Real.

What is this
A thin line
I can’t see
Playing tracks
Records are now
Becoming obsolete

A thick line
I can’t be
Easily inspired
A runaway train
Off tracks
Made of iron rails
Replaced by steel
In this modern
World

The only truth
That remains
Is taken in our youth

Oh, sweet lasting melody

Come and carry me
Up to heights reaching
Towards sunlight

Here, right now lifting
To heights reaching
Towards a day so full
Of  hope, full of breath
To breathe some life
In the form of songs
Sung out loud

When I close my eyes, I see diagonal lines
Frozen in this place, space, and time;

I wonder if they can see
Are they more than sheets;
In imagination,
Are they more;

Souls within,
Hearts pretend
Windows to another world
Inverted and bound by
Thoughts,
Lost in another place
Lost

La, la, la
The red sea drifts
On tumultuous rifts
Aging tank subsists
On what's left in the wreckage
Purple reflections
Seen on oily surfaces
& the sky combines
Its blue tones with
The contents raging
& stewing'
In its hungry belly