Inside of the infinite
I'm feeling rather finite
and I find
that high tide
is my time
to dine with the divine

twice a day
once in the light
once in the night

an angel with stretched wings pulled by a string
longer than it seems writing symphonies in my dreams
she whisper when she sings
each song rings betwixt my ears
reverberating reverence
evidence of the eternal
never evident if I'll return whole
each trip through the worm hole
requires a sacrifice

peace of life

many nights lying awake with gut rot
many lights where the wrong fight got fought
the water is rising
yet the boat is not

Sometimes I wonder
sometimes I wander
most times I both.

Each that I don't the thought of you is what got me through.
A soft touch, warm embrace, I am longing for the taste.
Palm to palm, chest to chest.

Sprawled upon the lakeside grass
waiting for the dreaming of you.

Sometimes I wrought
sometimes I rot
most times I both

Each that I don't it is fitting that I'm sitting with you
chest to chest, face to face.

Sprawled upon the lakeside grass
dreaming of and waiting for
You.

In a time of only black and white I am half past colored,
choking on grey.
Relentless in my decent I am sent into the fray.
Sentimental sense gone and washed away.
Clean like our hands dipped in dismay.
Can we interest you in a few "I guess it's true" well that's too bad, it's all that's being offered. And it's awfully absurd.
Can't recall when it occurred but here it is. Inside my every word. Within my every waking moment I am observed in blur and slapped with a slur attached to defining my ability to serve. Smothered in the debris of everyone before me, my book is 30 chapters of the same story.
I break from the mold demanding the ever intensifying focus of eyes wide open as I preach from the curb screaming from within my own skin. But I am speaking in tongues
and these ones, well, they are deaf anyway.
In a time of only black and white I am half past colored,
choking on grey.