Poets are poets, famous or not
they love, they kiss, they cry

And in any kind of weather
they spill their ink

Then let their words flow
whether rain or snow

Married or not, young or old
Sleeping in the cold

In sickness or in health
On a bed near death

Poets write about their love
poets write about life

Poets write and write and write
Some write until they die

I am a philosophic dreamer,
moving on fields of open mind.

I dance and steps vibrate
in patterns of sacred geometry.

I sing and music echoes
causing heart to expand with grace.

I breath deep and lungs fill
with air infused wisdom.

I love and the universe matches my essence
so miracles occur.

I dream and all fits into place
inside divine timing.

I am a philosophic dreamer,
blessed inside the celebration of life.

Living behind
the gates of no sight
my FATHER is.
Perhaps snapping away
with a spiritual camera- like eye.
as he knows I love and miss him.

Living behind
the gates of no sight
my AUNT is.
Perhaps sitting around a manifested table
laughing and enjoying the moment.

Living behind
the gates of no sight
my MOTHER is.
Perhaps feeling the ocean of love I send her
as I recall her mothering aspects.

Living behind
the gates of no sight
my HIGHER SELF is.
giving love and direction for me
who needs its guidance.