Did you ever wonder,
Like I always wondered,
What kind of love
Story you would have?

It was hard to imagine,
I've come from so far away...
We are surrounded by war,
But we make each other laugh.

We laugh,
We laugh,
We laugh,
We laugh...

She is the color
Of the sun when it sets,
A hazy bronze hue-
She is my breath.

She's from the desert
Far beyond the sea-
She could be from Heaven.
She is an Angel to me.

To me,
To me,
To me,
To me...

I'm just a man.
I came here to find my way.
Our families won't approve.
We'll love each other anyway

(We love each other any- anyway.)

Our customs are different.
As different as night from day.
Traverse the dymensions.
I'll meet you halfway.

We shoot across the sky,
And answer the riddle.
How could we make love?
We kiss in the middle.

Kiss in the middle,
Kiss in the middle,
Kiss in the middle,
Kiss in the middle.

Why ask why I like your poem? Be courageous in your ideas and ideals. Be confident enough to know that your work is true to your vision. Artists of all kinds, but especially poets, are the philosophers and prophets of their generation. A revelation does not passive-aggressively seek to be worthy. It just is. Revelators, in the converse, often are compelled to seek praise with false humility via the age old pretentious depreciation of the value of their work in order to reap praise, which is the expected polite response. It is a waltz I choose to sit out. I feel it is less than honest and a disrespect to the poet and the poem to revel in such frivolity. Write for the sake of revelation, not for the accolades of topical praise. It is no business of the poet why a poem strykes chords with a reader. Simply allow it to happen. Talent and truth are not always equatable, nor are beauty and integrity always comparable. In the heart, a poet knows he is a poet. By the very construct of your words, Poet, may you be the caster of many spells. Thank-you for sharing a bit of yourself with me. I bid thee Love and Light.

You stopped by to see me on your way out of town.
You said you were headed west because the locals were bringing you down.
As you sat across from me,
I looked into your eyes.
Then it hit, how much I'd miss my friend, as we said our good-byes.

I stood on the darkened sidewalk beneath a lamp that wasn't lit,
As you drove your car away from me,
My heart broke a little bit.
I would never tell a young man never to explore,
Because nobody could have held me back in my days of yesteryore.

A piece of me feels envy.
I'm no longer a young man.
If I were, then I would be with you,
Hand in loving hand.

Maybe once in a while think of me, When. like a stallion, you roam free.
When you kiss the pretty ponies,
Give a kiss for me.
As you blaze your fiery trail until you reach the ocean shore,
Remember that my heart is with you
And shall be evermore.

Where you look, your eyes will find me.
I am in the shade of every tree.
I am inside every tableau.
You only need to ask to learn,
You already have the answer to your quary.
Turn your attention inward
To turn to the Kingdom of Heaven.
You are My Logia.

Whosoever finds meaning in these sayings shall not experience death.

Let he who seeks keep seeking,
Seeking until he finds.
He will then be troubled,
Then astonished,
Then he will rule the world.

The old man will ask a child of seven days the place of life.
The two shall know each other,
As each shall become the other,
And become one and the same.
There is nothing hidden that will not be found.

It is what issues forth from your mouth which will defile you.
Do not ask about your end without knowing your beginning.

When two are the same as one.
When the inside is like the outside.
When what is above is as below.
When male and female are one.
When an eye is an eye,
When a hand is a hand,
When a foot is a foot,
You will know Paradise.

When you choose, as I choose,
One from a thousand,
And two from ten thousand,
And they stand as a single one,
You will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

The individual
not the sheep
thinks for himself
with no lost sleep

Secure in himself
approval not needed
what an advantage
of a life that's well seeded

To be raised as a person
with a mind of their own
rather than sat in a pile
as just one more stone

for none are the same
all have different needs
and to be the best us
we must have individual seeds