What a time
To be alive
So frightened
Often am I

So big but surely shrinking
This world is for the thinking

What is it here thats left
We taken so much
Some kind of nature theft

Im no perfect man
I take so much too
But in the stars i see the truth

They're so bright and bold and big
What difference does it make to be a pig

To be alive and to see whats real
And to be capable of the feels

A human soul's just like the rest
Hidden in a bag of flesh
Always moving toward their quest
Until there's no flesh left

To be a pig and to take
Without returning surelys a mistake
But it takes alot for one to grow

So let the world you take
Grab a hold a of you and shape
A human bag of flesh
Thats a little brighter than the rest

Eventually your days will end
Hopefully then youll ascend

Move for the sun then please
We need more light to bring about peace

Just remember
Its important to grow
But once youve grown
Its time to let go

Nothing better compliments my rhymes
Than the gentle sound of wind chimes

My mind often wanders to the dark side
But it's nights like this i'm glad to be alive

So it starts again
Creeping
Crawling
Into my head

Slowly devouring
Any sanity left
Amongst the mush
I dare call a brain

Obsession creeps
Down every inch
Of my lonesome body
From a lonesome heart

It has become me
The parasite inside
And its been there
My entire life

Why does it
Keep me alive

Sleep's run away again
Out of the house
Out on the street
Leaving a trail
Of my thoughts at its feet

The struggle
As real as it is
It comes from within

Ive veered astray
From a beautiful place
A garden
An Eden

And what else for
Than a filthy pleasure

The physical world
Taunts me again
Pulling me
Further within

But fear not,
My loved ones
And my love

My journey in
Is at its end
And coming forth
Is me again

Back from the depths
And twists of my mind

These are places
i dare not dwell
Today however
Ive been in hell

Trekking back now
Through the fog
Climbing up
Climbing out


Soon my love
Ill be free again

Imagine,
If you will,
The inner workings,
Of a watch.

All the tiny gears,
Gently colliding,
Slowly sliding,
Like lovers locked in dance.

All different sizes,
Shaped in their own way,
But all equally as important,
To keep constant flow.

Turning and turning,
The little ones go,
Turning the larger,
But the larger turns slow.

Their size and their speed,
Mean nothing to them,
In their own little circle,
They forever go.

They maintain their rhythm,
Their sense of immortal flow,
Then and only then,
Will the bigger things ever go.