I always sell myself short
                             so I wont be short changed

.

"Looking down from ethereal skies
Silent crystalline tears I cry
For all must say their last goodbye -
to Paradise..."
- Paradise Lost by Symphony X

Head buried                          
in pillows in the sky,      
voraciously consuming
the fluffy whites.            
Windy fingers                    
sieve the air.                      
                 Watchful eyes                                    
tracing tails of kites.    

He only hears      
  the faint hymns
                            from the outstretched wings
         of feathered birds.
            Leans back weightily
          on his throne of clouds.
        Notions form haphazard
in so many words.    

Casting his gaze,
               willing it earth-bound.
            Careless trees sway
                       in synchronised tandem.
              Diverse songs merge
              seamless in harmony.
        Singing in unison,
                             revelling the gift of freedom.

             Silent tears fall
                         and trickle as rain...
                  As he reminisces
                                       the images of his forsaken past.
       Scored paintings
of a paradise lost.  
All must say                          
their final goodbyes...                  
He will bid his,                              
last.                                               

.

In a world of pain, excitement and decay,
I met people,
New and variable,
Talented and inspiring,

Three with the magic to play instruments,
Sing with rhythm and enthusiast,
A flow so sublime yet raging,
Takes your senses away,

One who has the ability to create,
To draw and sketch reality,
Spilling paint on her art pad-
and blowing your mind away,

Two others who can sing,
Soft and beautiful,
Charismatic waves shoot down your spine-
As they sing patriotism so refine,

One great at sports,
Sends basketball's through hoops,
Claiming trophies-
And ranting about it with us fools,

Two others,
Paradox to me,
Can sing outstanding too,
But are all about sleep and food.

As one disappearing in
an inward distance,
to reappear in an outer
one...there's an aliveness
here, and only here...
forever redefining
the essence of life.
The grass can never
stop telling you how
green it is.