Someone once called me demure,
I didn't know the word
I looked it up that night
It stuck with me ever since
I'm quiet, I know
But the beast growls low inside
Begging for release
It distracts me sometimes
I don't hear what you said or I nod solemnly
To hide my inner longing to be free
I'll keep my face in the light
And I'll growl at night

An artist's cup
Full and empty all at once
Schrödinger's cat in another life
Second sight coupled with the afterlife
Feeling a little too much
Artists need a place to bleed
Somewhere to be free
Riddled artistry
A cup of gravity
Unique to each who drinks
Crafted by creativity
Drained by objectivity
An everlasting cup
Filled with hopes and dreams
Pains and philosophies

Tips of wheat brush gently across my fingers
I weep
But there are no tears that stream
Or muffled sobs
Only me in a field of wheat
A place among the stars
Why here?
In this field of golden stalks and grey sky
I'm answered by the breeze
Caressing my face with gentle embrace
Sight fades for feeling's sake
The illusion of life slips away
I am left with these golden stalks and breeze
Here I am free
Among the wheat with my lonely tree
I rest peacefully

Wintry tales
Of warmer days and green space
Jagged snow capped peaks
So high up there is little to breathe
Nestled in cliffs is a warm place
Where my heart beats
Far away from anything
I don't recall putting it there
But there it beats
With strings of soul attached
In the broken peaks it waits
Unbroken and untamed
Its thunderous beat is frightening
Sometimes it scares my sleep away
The electricity arcing through nodes
Down to the bundle
Commanding every fiber that exists
It waits
For the day I can reach the airless peaks
Claim what's mine
And will always be

A fox spoke to me last night
I thought myself insane
His bushy silver tail stood *****
As he gazed at me with bright eyes
I ought to run,
But you are of no harm, he said
I nodded, stunned
He chuckled and asked if I had never talked to a fox before
That would be ludicrous, I said
He shook his head and his muzzle bared the finest smile
Oh my lady, we foxes do speak
We are not as well heard as the wolves
Or as majestic as the owl
And we pale in comparison to the cougar
But we do speak
Tonight you've come to hear I think
I've been waiting a long time
For you to listen
I've come before but all you heard was a fox
Now sit and listen to my tale
I'm Keeper of the Winds
And it's time you learned about the storm within.