I'm embalmed in pine and simmering in luster
floating along a french toast breeze
as clear blue skies echo a songbird's warble.

Steam curls and twists into snake skins
as it unfurls from a cracked green mug,
steaming my neck and face.

A cool smile emanates certainty
and I resolve to the emotion,
my best self reflecting off onyx Ray Bans.

I am adoration and passion, filled to the brim;
clogged, quenched, settled;
completely fulfilled in a mountainous paradise.

Don't you ever
lose
your ability to dream
and
never stop searching
for the light
that lives within you

Even if it is
at the bottom of the barrel,
among the residue
of trial and error

The lotus grows in murky waters
With roots strong in the silt,
its beauty culminates
as it springs forth
from the dark lagoon

Promise
you will never stop
That you will self-actualize, hope,
aspire to be

Practicality kills the soul,
the possibility
of a glimmering tomorrow
is the fuel
for life's journey

I'm going to wake you up,
shake you up,
and leave you with
the scent of Morning Wood
fresh on your lips.

Tumbled and tangled
in the smoke of cedar,
we'll listen to the whistling of the
aged-redwood.

Quivering artisan candles
neither match nor compare to
our warmth,
and the best scent's throw
is time wasted
until June 4th.

Summertime is right around the corner
as on-again-off again beams
shoot forth from hypnotic clouds,
and tickle frosted mountains.
Their immensity booms from a substantial deck,
but their peaks still tremble
from forces under the threshold of awareness.
How grand you are;
to stand so strong
and anchor us to this beautiful land;
to sew dreams of hope deep into our souls;
to tattoo upon our hearts the concept of transience.
In admiration,
and apprehension,
we carry on with our lives with a single wish
to feel as relevant as you;
constantly mystified by your powers
that diminish us to mere specks on a landscape.
We are eternal wanderers,
mere travelers in your hands,
and wish only to be guided
by grace.