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I am a man,
In search of a woman.
Musically talented and open of heart.
Someone whom i can sing with.
All i bring is a voice sometimes toneless, but always true.
A person who brings the music nestled in their soul.
Who with the children running and screaming ,
And the flowers lilting in the yard .
Brings rhythm to the home...
Thats whats makes a home is the music that love brings .
We could sing to each other in all tones.
Of love and loss,
When the tears stream, as the smiles radiate .
From a glance only momentary malaise ,
.yet even in that darkness or voices fill the void.
The one we where born with ,
The one that in life we feared there was no escape.
Never knowIng wholeness till we found our song.
We dance.... we dance,d.
The tune we made in us
with our voice as one,
Sang light into the dark places.
Through the years
AS drops of rain and as life comes with pain
i gave you gently to the earth
With tears i sang to your earth
And left the sweet treasure that warmed you in life

            Filled with silence.
No more waking to the sound of risen voice.
Sound , sweet melody.
Days of silence...
Turned as the green of leaves to years.
No song only tears from the dreams.
Of green fields, your sweet hand grasping me,
And your lips as roses.
Sweeter melodies then ever sung.
Waking only with tear stained cheeks,
And a Feeling a diminisheing distance.
Days have passed now my cane is only a memory,
Wheels and withering legs have been reality.
No song.
Only nattering of young people that don't believe they'll die.
Sitting quietly in my cell,
Apartment to those not incarcerated.
Almost a year since those formerly screaming children showed.
Let alone i feel my darkness coming.
And for some reason all i hear is our song, your voice.
As the lights go down our song swirls into everything,
Or nothing depending your view.
I do hope that we dance in death...
As we did in Life.
I don't know what it is,
but I feel like a stranger here.
Like I was part of everything,
but now I'm only this.
That's what my body keeps trying to convince me of.
I don't fear the passing of my coil,
I've felt that death is simply a coming home.
Ever since I was a little boy.
I felt I was unconsciously part of everything.... before this,
Before I ate or drank of physical matter,
I was all the matter.
Then it shattered, and the sliver that is me...forgot. Now those memories only come with sleep,
they come and leave tears on my cheek.
I believe that's why we sleep,
to remind us we are not alone...
to remind us we are all one.
The patterns where random
At least at first appearance
On close inspection
seems there is something deeper
Through the tremble of blades
And the fettered veins
The street I'll cross
Throw up dueces
And dip
He talked to me,
In a slow and steady sarcasm.
It's one of my native tongues,
And I speak quite fluently.
My tongue is still sharp enough
To cut myself on.
Leaving the conversation
Cold In a pool of blood
On the ground.
I was born on a railroad tie,
And in my wake ,
My mother had died.
Drifted out, like a body on the tide.
Cried her last tears,
As she gave me life.
Wish I had known her,
Yet she still lives inside.
In my grin and my dazzling smile,
I'm only an echo,
Of an unborn child.
There's an old saying;
Beware the man who fakes a limp.

But to all those who would fake a limp;
Beware the limp does not become part of you.
From which all movement comes.
A sense of connectedness,
Deep in practice.
Not sleep...
But a sibling none the less.
Both a leaving,
A sense of going home.
To where we were before.
Where we ruturn.
Once our light passes the final veil.
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