Delicate iris,
Aching skyward, gracing clouds.
Into the darkness.

Myths and rapid cycling
mood rings.
These are fabled love stories
from the
Book Of Lust.

Memories seen
from rotten eyes.
And all the maggots,
worms, and spiders.

That live inside them.

Truth is always near.
We just gotta dig for it.

For the truth is always
buried beneath lies.

I am who I am
No more
No less
I am who I am
I make no
Excuses
For the person
I am
I am me
There is no one
In the whole
Wide world
Who is like me
There is no one
Like you
You are you
There is no one
In the world
Like you
Never make excuses
For who you are
For the person
You are inside
You are an individual
There is no one
Who can be like you
There is no one
Who can change you
But yourself
You must be able
To be you
To love you
To know you
So that you can know me
To know myself
Is to know everything else
To know yourself
Is to know everything else
Reaching inside
Reaching the oneness
That connects us all
Together
When we get to that point
You realize I am me
You are you
We are individuals
Yet we share the same heart
Beating individually
But all at once

Never, did he sell her dreams,
                     only nudged to make her  see the possibilities together,
                                                  she wouldn't reign in, her crazy horses,
                        went ahead, spun dreams beyond the possible.

Impossible things seem to us like unreachable dreams, as we look upon them with shining eyes but never try. Then comes along a courageous one, to do the deed that cannot be done, and say to us without regret, it’s only impossible because you haven’t done it yet.