In this prominence
Om·ni·pres·ence
On a cathedral I stand
Beneath the oceans breath
And fly without thinking of these stars
Which are but fireflies in the meadow around
I am bigger than galaxies
Older than thoughts
And more aware of being than we've ever been

It’s been a long time since
the sound of you came back to me
In an echo so fierce like the roaring trees
and embedded deep itself within wooded mind

Albeit growing towns and in doubt maybe
You are still eternal in stillness and air
Like moth wings ever felt unseen
and mulled ciders reckoning

Like a street vendor fair
How you always unroll the sidewalks clean
and walked out of us as far as eyes could be seen
Until carnival sounds were at backs and finally at ease

How the sound of you came back to me
without so much as a whisper spent
On this, these prattling autumn trees
No songs remind or need I see

From the day I first sat
     in that shallow class
Picking up a pen full of emotion
     to disperse
I never once thought
     (consciously)
Or planned to leave
     (this earth)
So many millions of words
So many thousands of verse

Let my hands know, not stray
My mind not walk into the sunlight bright

With a will of being, I persist
And by all means, mean
When approaching this

Still reserved, stirred and steady
Waiting patiently as the moon
Full as tides, light as snow
Closer than a ticking soon

Approach
My time it will be, ours  
Just as the train will come, I will be ready

Every day I sit and wait
  to be paid so that I can sit and wait
   in public for thoughts to free themselves
    and hopefully migrate towards the future you
     who knows me not but wishes for these same things true

"You know me
I'm just like you"
Said the street to the moon
One reflective night
We are the same kind of vanishing day
And with a weary stroll
Against our own better judgement
We fight

I pretend - And with infatuations paint at life
         with colors sound
         until this be known
To all those wishfully waiving trees
          who choose to grow
          in such close proximity to me  
That the secret is - I’ll never know what I want to be

How can I hear
Past the noise of all beings
?
If my own being cannot be
In quiet breathing
?
I can't
.

The most beautiful essence of memory
is the breeze.

The most powerful beat of the drum
is the heart.

The thunder paints colors in my ever clouding head,
and rumbles to be heard once again with ease.

In all of your astounded ears, surreal, would you please?
I wish to be whole and not in part.

Real friends know who you are. And they don't take offense at you being you. They just account for it. See title.

It's not that opinions
(much like rushed sculptures)
Are always unattractive
But it's the forceful hatred behind the hands
Which makes me sick of seeing the resurfacing you
Over and over
Again and again

And yet in this stage of life
I dont hate you
Nearly as much as you hate them

I just want to sit somewhere. And drink coffee with no-one. Until my thoughts are renewed, and my feet spring alive with a new thread of carbon.

With tears
To preface rain
She said
"I don't know why I feel what I feel but I feel it"

Were I to be
Even an inconstant breeze
In the sails of your chest
Occasionally
I would never be lacking
In joy or breath
Or in breathing or sense
I would never be without
Or separated from want of
This breathy desire

The way you wear clothes is killing me slow

Snow knows no depth
Nor showers embrace
Like the sea at peace
Or the rivers mid run

For the coldest thing
Ever moreso than
These distant relatives embrace
Is this coffee in hand

It is happily so

[chilled to perfection]

When everything is in order, set
And stones are smooth as rivers run
It is then, and in, I expect will forget
The endless coming of undone

But no
Not yet
For a hundred years more
I will remember, learn, to just let the coming of set

No order will ever
Last

I don't want much
Or need another to hold my hand
There's not much left to be found of us
(Thank God)
I just want to taste
I just want to be able to smell the sky again

When I rest I sleep like water
Into potting soil newly laid

Into my bed I find myself and fold
Like ironed sheets and cabernet

I dry and dry my desert eyes
On quiet silk
Unwind like coils and fade away

Like the distant colors of a prefixed sun
As its dullest emerald glow
Is slowly polished with grey

Until all that's left is the sleepless ore
Black as opal jewel with organic shine

I am tirelessly writing myself away
On smooth rocks from a vibrant stream

And all I want are mountainsby

As
a sign
Sometimes
it all goes right
The stars don't align
but I feel them nonetheless
And for a moment life's duress is but a memory
To me, as I live and burn in this present candlelight
Though sometimes the evening is even darker than the night
And I crash into the atmosphere of a more realistic Me
Like a lonely poet who never shares his paint
Like a bygone song no instrument will play
And in burning I retreat
to the halls of sleep
Sometimes
I am far
away

(Even though it seemed to be the perfect day)

How far does the waning songbird ring
How unheard of long the song which calls you home

you know?

Life was once to me
A slate to chisel
Frame to feign
With stars the occasional to see, unfelt
When really
As an owl
I never knew a sunrise word until I stopped seeing the morning

Does a new wind ever blow or die?
From the same fountain of cloud which has alway given?

In a upward lifting thought of sky
Is the dream relentless?
Or is it just the same day which we've all been living

I ask because I wonder why

Is this the new beginning?

You speak
And I hear my beliefs
Together
Is a powerful thing to be
Be it only in hope and sight

Starlight doesn’t fall
It eases into atmospheres
And shines in mirrored eyes alive
Like all the sand-glass in the shoaly seas
And the crystallizing clouds in the winter skies

Just as all of this is in
Her eyes

The day it's easy
To convey such depth
Is the invested day
Vested far beyond this
And is fiercely won