Twin typhoons merge to one heraldic storm
Stand those who witness your travel
As the bow of ships sway to your passing
Sweeping that which is stagnant
For you bear the seeds of change
Bringing anew the source of survival

As the two I's of the storm cross
They form the one You
To imagine what came before
To see in the mind the force of the individual serves no justice
The support of the other comes naturally with the wind
Your energy and direction is one
Forces of nature made inseparable

May all touched by your rain take root
May the sun bring warmth to your harvest
And may the moon guide your travels

Crouched I above the lake
A breath still to stay the collecting beads
The flash of fish scattered for one to drop
Statue I stay, glistening of my own dew
I see their shimmer
Cautionary to the scrap of bait enclosed to my shade
Their sheen fades past the borders boundary
Seeking nibbles set on the morsel
No more than a splashed stone I am
The row of scales unblur to individuality
A path led by jaw, I close around the hunt
Breaching the surface now set above
Washed away is my patience of irreverent iridescence

Trailing down the shape of you I shine in the sun
By your effort I stand to exist
For your survival I rush to protect
In your fear I let off a warning
From your arousal I make your desires known
Miles I live under your surface
Ready to pour and have you glisten before all
A silvered surface transcends you to a being whom captures the light
You are a child of the stars, shining as they do

A color I am not, but a wave locked by your eyes
From sight alone I transcend the ephemeral
By the beholder I am captured
As brief as the flash of a buttersflight
Timeless in the moment a cloud catches the light
A glimpse of moonrays striking through mist
Torn open to prize mother of pearl
In the slick of man's pollution coating the world
Lathered in suds, as way to make amends
I do not exist to stay in your world, yet you bind me in chains of sight

On a walk I stand before the cast of a park sprinkler
Within my periphery is an arc immaterial
Glancing up and through
A rainbow of moonlight plays along the mist kissing my face
Short lasting and without color
I move along the waters path to catch its glimpse once more

I am the monster in chains held by a lock of my own teeth
I am the lure that controls the angler fish
I am the wolf in sheep's clothing that wishes to be the sheep
I am a friend of the humanity I wish to destroy

What a kind curse I have. I am built in my biological design to observe the world around me. To process and be able to understand concepts, how to use the information to benefit. My visual acuity to discern the physical world with clarity and capture as much floating light information that is ambiently around. A dissociated portion of my own psych that is constantly observing me and my mental state giving a pseudo "objective" view of whatever I'm actually doing. Even when inebriated, woozy, or having ***, being directly still aware of what I'm doing and what is happening to me. I am kind enough and seem to be attractive enough that people enjoy my company, want me around, and sometimes kiss me. I have a strong enough imagination to **** a little with my perceived reality. With a degree of fact, narcissim, and uncertainty, these are gifts.

I have such a poor memory. There is so little I retain from the information I receive. I regularly can not remember to do things. It takes a long time, with considerable effort, to commit something to memory. I lose grasp on a running thread if distracted. The gifts I have are wasted for doing anything to accurately and fully benefit those around me and myself. Even selfishly it is difficult for me to substantially gain from it. This is the curse.

I have no distraction from the exact moment I am in and what is happening right then. I am always present. I have the greatest capacity to observe the exactness of the life I live. I have nothing to do with what I have, other than enjoy it. To see the grandeur of the fact that is existence. That anything exists at all is a marvel and I am here to see it.

A dog of curly black, puffs of white from it's lips
Followed in a tether, two folks of kin washed in a dew lit sun