I walked past blue mountains,
Beside the crystal stream —
I ambled deep into the forest,
In a mist of emerald green.
Beams of light pirouetted,
Sol’s fire of purity,
Birds preened their wings,
In a shade of serenity.
Whispers rustled in the air,
Earth, water gushed,
A hymn of wind in symphony,
In harmony though hushed.
Midst the song of the forest,
A murmur in the breeze,
My soul, engulfed in silence,
Yet singing . . . at peace.
I stood on firm earthen ground,
At one with trees and ferns,
Knowing it’s from here I come,
And here I will return.

Maybe you were never ready
to carry a weight that’s so heavy.
If you can’t set the course,
you’re going to need to follow.
You can bring water to a horse
but you can’t make it swallow.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
From the city back to town,
from space bound to homeward.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
You scream your lungs out but even near her,
you’re always ignored;under detection.

Maybe you were never prepared
to share a burden that should never be shared.
It’s been a few years; it’s been some time
since you lodged your last complaint.
I’d like to believe you’re now doing fine,
and you’d like to believe you’re just a saint.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
Follow the air bubbles to not drown
don’t turn a drama into a horror.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
If she can’t move will you still fear her,
and her manipulation and deflection?

I sometimes forget Medusa was victim to a curse,
and I never tried to make it better but I sure as hell made it worse.
Maybe Athena could’ve been more forgiving and kind,
she didn’t have to leave her living, or she could’ve made her blind.
She could’ve plugged her ears
so she wouldn’t have to hear the screams
of the men who holds fears
of a woman who dreams.
She could’ve ripped off her nose
or just taken her voice,
sometimes that the way it goes
you just don’t get a choice.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
Even if she could scream no one would hear her,
and long ago got used to the rejection.

Looking out the kitchen window
Watching the palm tree move in the breeze
Branches mirroring feathers
A few birds resting on it or seeking food
As I watch a feeling of bliss and calm fill my body
I am at peace
The scene is a form of melody
Hypnotic and meditative
Mother Nature is both composer
and conductor

There's is beauty in the pipes
Or so we're told
So we would like
Wether
Stone
Lead
Copper
Or polycarb
Are in them liquid?or gas?
Perhaps a solid slow moving mass?
I feel quite confident now
They seem to be heading
Toward the Bar.