Stepping through dimensions swimming on the astral plane, psyche ripped to pieces falling out a corporeal frame.

Minutes seem likes seconds but the hours seems like years, were we chasing daydreams or running from our fears.

Feel the cord slip as the body fades away, drift into the beyond counting forever and a day.

Slide through the mystic cosmic membrane like breaking the water surface, almost forgetting who you are or at the very least forget your purpose.

Hold tighter to the memories of the form as you recede, life is so much more then the bones that you perceive.

Yet back into the cotton you fall once more, so much for an escape as someone begins knocking at the door.

Stare into the fleeting glance of a hopeless minded stranger, look past the days of broken glass into a struggling fear of danger.

Not all these wary souls find solace in this contentment, nor do they seek the road that leads to a lifetime of resentment.

How can we see the broken mind with a face that paints no picture, how can we grasp the emotional flow when know not the condition of the fixture.

How can we offer open hands when the days of sorrow blind them, how can we know their pain when thoughts to express them are binded.

We must break the solitude of night that ever gloom upon their distance, to meet them with the illumination of healing love's stronger persistence.

As some gray days can never become blue without a changing wind, sometimes we cannot see the power that was always hiding within.

Ride a bolt of lightening far beyond the sea of strange, test your brains limits as you contemplate your mental range.

Sliding down the rabbit hole turning you inside out, trapped in muted screams when all you want to do is shout.

Beware the tap dancing frog and Fox that plays piano, for they may twist a man until he thinks himself soprano.

And never drink the coffee offered by the chess playing bear, for she will have you dumbfounded thinking your body isn't there.

Yet all of this is fair on the liquid lavender expedition, but it all depends on your state of mind and perhaps your whole condition.

No lifetime is spent there even though some are surely trying, you may end your trip in joyful laughing or as some utterly crying.

The most delicate rose with its petals flowing in the breeze, women are the sweetness that fills the life of leaves.

Liken to the root that digs deep into the earth, strong and ever reaching often hidden in the dirt.

The ones behind the strong branch that seems to hold the world, even harder to believe they start as breakable and vulnerable little girls.

Most grow knowing the weight of a thousand stars, all in the search to find merely who they are.

They are the mother earth that breathes life into us all, they are the ones we must ensure never fall.

Few can know the path of one who uses dark magic, though there be appeal it's road is fraught with sadness and rather tragic.

One may use this power to control another's mind, one may even use it to change the body's age for a time.

Yet few who use will ever speak of the price that must be given, never will they tell the piece of soul torn and forever hidden.

But those who wield the dark arts to quietly entrench the world, can still become the brightest light that shines to heal with words.

They may even stand right next to you offering a shoulder and hug, for the terrible things they have done can only be repaid with love.

Forever will the truth remain in one that has walked the darkened road, ever will they repay the debt lest their heart once again corrode.