The river flowing through limitless space,
milky infinity of the sky-
originates in the cosmos.
Surging luminous consciousness-
that vanishes in to mysterious dark places-
beyond the millenniums of light years,
no one can ever comprehend,
takes other forms or formlessness.

We aren't separate, intricately waved in to one,
we have wings in our beings,
to fly, transcend,
and exist, in formless and abstract state of bliss.

*Pain, darkness and heart breaks, are
just within this plane of dreams,
Beyond this it's only life, and light,
death doesn't exist.

An auction just last month -- no sale, I guess,
for now a square of white on your window says:
"Building Condemned, Order of the City..."
A salable family place, and there's the pity --
your roof and sills square, the clapboards straight,
the windows shining -- but an enemy of the state,
apparently, too good to live. So, bang --
you're dead! No one loves you, home. Go hang.

A house needs people in it! But your soul's gone,
your family fled, flat broke, or simply broken.
What a waste -- and one on every street, forlorn,
contrite, like jilted brides that none will visit.
Still, you're left here, waiting. Who is it
loves you now? And not one word is spoken.

I truly thought
I had found myself
in a wondrous place
where you could truly see me,
and that all my words
were forever immortalized.
Held close.......
inside of your everything,
soft......as a breeze.

I laughed as you stared
into my eyes, asking my name.
With my heart in your hands
and the moonlight
at your beck and call.
Then......watching you walk away,
I smiled.......
even though I realized
you never knew me
at all.

I am making a desicion
to clean my body of
your hollow whispered bruises
cracks in my diaphragm
your words left sizzling there
like acid that dripped from your lips
I forgot the deception that swam from your eyes
I have never been stupid
enough to believe
that you were only one
when there were three.
But we stood and watched that house burn
never feeling colder,
than we did that night.
Im sorry your brother died and took
your parents with you.
So you are an orphan that
demonstrated car crashes
in the mere rhythm of your hands
or melody of your speech.
But I find myself drawn to angry cobalt blue eyes
too often enough to know that
I cannot grapple out of your choke-hold
and frozen fingers will bruise me every shade of your
roaring ocean-like blue.
I can only admire the sapphire in your soul from a distance
and hope the red ruby rage turns to wine and not blood.
I have left my marks on too many wooden floorboards, pleaded with too many icy aquamarine eyes;
from boys with steel in their voices but a fury in their hearts.
Too many fingernails stuck between infinite spaces somewhere in houses
where the silence reminded me of the stillness of a teal lake in spring
your eyes are reminiscent of a grey morning I do not wish to remember
I will leave a mark here.