One of the most frustrating things about being human is the answers are so obvious even a child could understand.  Can the ramifications of self be a controlled sequence or are we left with naught but chicanery's dynamisms on the fealty.  It's like the depths of pervasion as opposed to the heights of possibility when everybody knows it's an oblong sideways.

Lonely time the silent partner my shroud of light untouched ?  Stone horse caravan in flight beckons to your claw , to sail the truth of force untold beyond the gaping maw .

The trees a mountainous mirage , the
well of life , the soldier’s strife .  Their patterns form a                            
vast collage , oming beckoning call of life .

Like the drips concentric circles they sing a
mighty tune , of the force that has survived the tide
to look upon the moon .  

A camel’s **** with head and trail the
universal drone .  We track across the sea of time
like unicorns we hone .  Only to become ourselves
as we forge into our home .

Tomorrow is only yesterday beyond the here
and now .  We all must strive within ourselves to
make the tortoise paw .  To stand beside the endless
river and be what we can be , until we finally
become what we all need to be .  Introspect the
bottomless key , to stand an island in the sea .

Pieces of jade in a sun bowl , the purpled
crystal queen .  The fragments of forever continue
with the dream .  Islands in the sun , speaking just
for fun , of what it is that out survives the truth
that hasn’t come .  

God bless the child that has it’s own , gladiator
that .