11,541 days a breath
With nothing standing in my way
I can live and walk into the sure, unsure
Cutting paths to wilderness, song to wind
But to attribute THIS to my own success
Is but wishes and hopes
Nothing more or less

The human spirit falls
Not because of weight
Or snagging stone
But because of rainbows end
Of water vapors shining spirit
And because our nature is
To go

Perhaps one day
These eyes will know
The other side of the sky
(That is mine)
And your mind too
In all of its reassuring glory
With its own sunshine
Each morning in tow

No night shadow will ever come between
Such bright and glowing
Stream fed eyes as these
(Which glow as one)
And hope to never be parted from
This earth in all of its grounding ways
Just as your sight cuts deep
So does that movement which you've yet to know

My eyes will always wait for yours

No more can you change
The harsh, cold, reality of winter
So much as you can
Choose to warm yourself then
When the sheen of eventual summer is sprung

Don't take the seasons personally
Like dawns and sunsets on the rise
They always come

You are a head turn in a crowded station
A mere reflection in a city bus passing by
You with your life embued and color renewed
Like New York after the fall of a subtle June
You are ever growing effortlessly grown
Like bridges and high wires in the sunlit sky
You are stretching and cleverly reaching
Whispering quietly with easy by traffic side
Peacekeeping being of elvish beating
And your heart the very least of things
By which I would wish you too described

No words do the essence of your summer justice
All around and within song
Blessed is the man who sees such beauty each morning
And where it secretly resides

I value creation
I care about outcome
I live not for me
But to die everyday
To away from the old ways
I flee

A write is such a wrong
If found (in) to be nothing more
Than a turning out
Not of ideas
Or truths
Or questions
Or desires
But of disregard for craft
And the pretensions of these selfish liars

Create to make, not make sum

Fear me not
Lest judgement find
That I am not matching
Not molded out of or shaped being
To that sculpture of which
Has been always there
In your mind

All that is, is already made
Or so I find

Smooth as softened alabaster
Their scent to you an immeasurable bliss
Where the sun tucks the moon beneath his chin
Rests an endless dream no more than a wish

(4LINE)

Your soul
A cabin as it should
Surrounded by forgiving trees
And friendly fern laid paths beneath
Your sound
And sound is that of thrushes knocking
Cattails waiving friends goodbyes
With summers long once gone to rest
In other counties
I'm glad you tried
To keep that hymnal you alive

In my country you did belong

Waiting for the Lord

As the soul waits for the wind
As hands wait for the friend
As homes wait for each of these

Small beings no more than the grassy seas
Just as rain is sent by the lord again
So that all of these may grow and be

I **** at accepting gifts

Knowingly walking down the path of frustration
And expecting to be happy
Is not a problem of feet
But an expectant problem of mind

And so I find
That I must walk in a different manner
To be free

The balance between quiet and community
The calming free and the crunch of expectant others, ew
How to wish and wish
That I would not be
Bound by such constraints
As myself and me
(So often imposed)

Ick

Who am I to say what I need
What color my feelings are painted today
On this time and dime turned
Like a coin thrown down
Who am I to say what I’m becoming now
?

There is no human hope
Which a train, a plane, or breeze
Cannot whisk away at a steady pace

But the sunlight calls
In its glorious dawning truth revealed
With each day arriving still

No cloud can keep us from the sun
Forever less
From each other be it willed

(Wishing)
Not on stars, or skies
Not on rocks, or trees
Not on mountains, or valleys
Or on rivers, or streams

Not on daylight, or night
Not on waking, or sleep
Not on coins, or on clovers
But on prayer that you will see
(Me)

Where skylines bend
And sunglow lights
Our pyre bed on which we live
Such combustive talks
And opinions which once were given
Give way to sleep, to rest, to need
And to an understanding so carved, so dutifully deep
That even skylines cannot touch or reach our valleys found
Where we are have been
In growing roots deep

Give me space and the freedom to feel it out
Into the existence which wasn't meant to be
But would never have been
Without the vision
Without me

I am a selfish, most biased, creator of worlds

hello is not a word
so much as a greeting is a sky
which stretches out above our heads
into the coulded mists and parting looks of waiting eyes

The further you get
from the vision of dream
.
The less you can see
clearly as a calm content being
..
Your own self currently therein
...
The further toward the inaction you grow
the more tree like you become
....
So BREAK FREE and be free
while you are still young
.....
Tomorrow is for old age and memory

I* ill *advised
  Because there are some things
      Which time will not fix
         Nor heal, or mold, or meld within mind
            When they simply are what simply is
               That is something for which
                  Only you can decide

I haven't forgotten you
Or fallen softly into the arms of the forlorn
Almost memories no more, no
I haven't forgotten because because
I haven't forgotten the last of us
Of which once was
So much more

I still remember