some believe in the deity
others in the sanctity of self
I think poetry is a religion
a soul unto itself
not a god
but close
and I seek her his its
calming words
wisdom
to get on my knees
and worship
every night
alone
here
in my sanctuary
like any
true believer

how daydreaming has such a bad rep
how being a clerk
is somehow degrading,
how light as predicted is bent
by the sun's displacing the time-space fabric

it only came about through a student
who could not get a job a failure predicted
by professors and academicians , a patent office
job , quite the easy thing, all
the time in the world to explore riding a beam

comparing time , only with a brain cell,
to the speed of light, with only thought
spitting the apple out splitting the atom,
proving his professors right,
he did not fit, that is why E = mc squared

and photons bend in the warped fabric
of time and space , he closed his eyes and daydreamed,
let more of us do that.
But let us close eyes to envision
man riding peace, love

to where this world now , most of us,
scoff at, profess such a dream is unreal,
remember, it was but over a century ago,
Einstein was proven, to be a genius
after so many said he was a failure.

There are so many daydreams, so much
undiscovered. I consider myself a skepticist,
unless I believe there is more to all this.

i am to a  tangent function  arc of circumference real
the magnitude of the perimeter of my  reflecting rays cut through
the diameter of periodically functioning perimeters the sines
crosses over the ***** into asymptotes horizontally questions
arise what may be the derivative of the product of two less functional
****-ups?
In a piece-wise functional reality might it be weird to ask ?
I fall through the condition no binary operative am I or will allow,
I decipher here, the quantities quality. I coordinate this graph draft it to my reality, cipher the x y
approach thereby a tangent to infinity here now,
then on a point between the average *****, in my defined interval,there is a point where it all is irrelevant

truth beautiful trees
anything on wings
flowers four leaf
clovers, smiles,
tails wagging all that paints
my happiest
treasures,
All are valuable, priceless,
are really all I need.
All are kept locked with
a strong padlock
here in memory,
forever safely sacred.

greying in the distant
add
   white and black
the horizon  dissolves
   off

the depth
comes forefront
    becomes colored,
stands resolved a painting
  of spires in
the distance
temples nearer
            horizons
hills over
    we climb.