Misty magic of the mountain dew
Drops so fragile and resilient
Drops hanging from the tips of leaves,
drops rolling down the blades of grass
Drops that linger upon the spider’s web
like a jewel of many splendored diamonds
Indestructible in its fragility
Beautiful as only a Trap can be.
Trap for the poor insect but palace
for the majestic spider crafting a
Cosmos of dexterity that decides
the fates of many lowly creatures
that are food and play for the
majestic spider with his many legs
and his spindle craft. The disdain
that he spills for the two legged
cripples as he dances upon his
agile ten legs casting inviting
nets of Hope and Death.
Death of the living who pity the Dead
Not knowing the ******* of life and freedom of Death.

The Only striving worth its name is to strive for death from which there is no resurrection. A Death so complete that it frees you of the need to exist. When you are free from the need to spin webs that are cast to trap. One who traps cannot leave the web either, trapped into his own trap.

Without setting a trap there is neither work, food nor play. So the trap has to be crafted with one’s heart strings of love, pain and ecstasy.

Décor not of diamonds but drops of ecstasy that only those steeped in love can smell. A trap that drips with juices of life that flood away the fears of death. Such an overflow of life that defies death and touches the Beyond Here and Now. Such a honey trap when you shake, drops of life will fall not unto Death but into the Beyond.

Veils of misty myopia
Cocoon one with the warmth
of blindness beautiful
The beauty of a leaf, flower,
light, shadow, breast, hair
The myopic mist makes it all fair
You may burn your way
through these veils of mist
Or
O’Beloved trust me
Behold my spirit in your Heart
Hold my hand in love
Become an ecstatic drip
That will let you flow unto the Beyond.

Slowly, all the words drain out
With the ink that flows
Blank page is embellished
With the beautiful calligraphy
Thus, poetry is birthed

My pages blown from my
Grasp
They fly high as like
Small clouds,
Riding The winds, I reach
For that which is unattainable
Now far out of reach,
I run,
Then sprint
Then walk
As my hands now upon my knees,
Out of breath as well as paper
They flew, up and down
In to the face of an unsuspecting
Man, words he saw before he
Fell upon hands and face,
Paper removed a title seen
"The Accidental Meeting"
He looked up, and beheld
Beauty,
Smiles,
Hand,
Held out, blushing he took
Her hand, and she spoke
"If it wasn't for that page"
"We wouldn't have meet & spoke"
And the story kept a keep sake
Of there meeting that nearly wasn't,
"But ahead of ourselves we are"
As other pages
Flew,
Skimmed,
Fluttered
Through the air,
Landing upon faces here and there,
One unfortunate crook, who now
Paid a price, when paper meet upon his face,
He saw three word planted between his eyes
Crooks
Never
Prosper
And with that an almighty
"****"
To the floor he slumped,
A short post meet groin and man
As a voice high pitched,
"What paper is this landing between my eyes "
As three laughing police man
Tears before there eyes, took the paper
And glanced at became the undoing
Of a criminal on the run,
"Evidence and a good read"
Lifted to the car as
Nuts
Meat
&
Veg
Very bruised, he couldn't run even if he wanted,
Many pages flew through the air, me
Not knowing the impact my stories
Landing  here & there,
By those are for another time,
"If you see paper, words & ink"
*"Please read my stories and tell me what you think"

I never imagined
Death could be beautiful
But then I saw the autumn leaves