Beauty be it in the eye.

The same eye makes me wonder.

Both if and how your hair falls like this ... Most naturally.

And naturally so... If you even try?

Mindfulness, awareness
The pursuit of perfection indefinite

Though she may be
All which grows heavenly above the middle sea

I am the opposite of her
I am consciousness indefinitely

With horizons like shoulders
Stands the image of the self
In the self-perceived mind

Until called like ringing
The mountains asleep
Undisturbed in dew and time

So the woodsman knows and is awake
To the truest of nature
The societal eyes

And at the feeling of ever
Need it depart

He flies

Into the mountains to live a life spent alive

There is willingness
And there is want
And the lack thereof, one from the other
Is noticeable
A sign of impending doom
And gloom
And if so, you’d best not try
You'd best not move lest you fail to pass
The test of passing time

There is no shame

In needing something

So much as there is

The disappointment when

You discover that your something

Will never be needed

I am neither of them nor above them.
Though I do stand here looking out.

I am separate.
I am me.
As much as you can ever be you,
And I have ever been me.

For it is in this place where we become we.
The investors,
The collectors,
And the testing who test the testers.

We are us and they are them.
And yet the youth of today and tomorrow so rarely see,
That the educated and the un are all the same,
Just like you and me.

We all are people,
And to each his or her own.
We each try and find our own way to flee from it all,
Above it all.

Outward and upward.
In such a world,
And in such words as you will find here,
Is where you will always find someone like me.

Neither of nor above.
Yet ever present,
Always yearning to be free.

With a rain like this
That would never stop
I'd wish it not over
Again and again
That way I wouldn't have to face the sunshine
Let alone call it mine
When this need for a new life of mine
Must begin

When you write
Write for no one
Or for someone
Never in between

Unaware of my own walking
Feet are numb though midday may be
Forever wandering and talking
About the sunshine nothingness of time
And I am witness to this madness
My farsight focused, nearsight blind

Not of wind
Or of wills
Or of ways to be
Though we spoke of truth
And of the tombs of Kings
Most gallantly
No
The words were never recognized
As they flowed so freely from within
To peak the howling wind which we both liked to describe
The past, and there, therein

I close my eyes and pretend she's here
Wrapped up in my anxious arms
As the future which I hold most dear
Awaits elsewhere

And I am left alone to speak
And practice reciting the many things
Which one day she
Will want to know and about me

Quietly and patiently
I remind myself of all that's been
Of all I've tasted in this life
The bitter and the sweet

And slowly as I edge towards sleep
I am reminded with closing eyes
That in this moment were not meant to be
Together until she's next to me

The mind seeks to be
To express its worth
In metaphor and homily

And yet no cloudy day remains alive
Within your mind

As memories grey and overcast
Like a visionary dream once passed

You are awake
And yet your eyes
Are only aware of this present take
On life lived alive

No voice is meant to learn such things
Or to recognize these passing clouds
Which have long since passed you by

No cloud is ever exactly as remembered within your mind

At the bottom of every cup
Their is either
Acceptance or ignorance
Loss or desire
For more or less knowing
There is thirst in every human throat
For the drink of mind which will return
For some a nothing ounce
For others all which the senses can possibly remeber and inspire
With fire, and water, and heart to beat
No drink lasts by drink
Or by slow plastic perspire

Does quality know that it's quality?

Does a thoroughbred know it's a winner?

Do the chance-less still stand, for a chance at all?

Can the redeemed ever not know their redeemer?

Though you cast all your peals before swine, do they care?

Will we think fore we trample our friends?

Can you count all the birds in the bushes as if caged?

Just as man counts the days till the end?

I don't have ghosts
Or believe in memories
As an empty closet holds no sway
The past being no more than ash
With a breath to breathe it away

The most distant hope
Of mine
Is you
...
And that
When she turns around
No one is someone I’ve yet to know
!
Who is looking for me
As I am looking at you
?

Your voice
An echo in my atmosphere
I thought I caught it once
In fast descent one summers night
And I thought and thought
That it could be you
Since the wind was never so loud in voice
So alive as that
Since you always did have
That particular shine within snowy eyes
But no
Not this time

It’s between the veins of blue and gray
Where the secrets hide
You’ll have to look awfully close to see
The pieces therein  
Within my eyes

It doesn't matter how sweet I am, or how kind I feel that I have to be. All that really matters to me is you, and how based on me you will perceive,

The other men, the other shoes, the many soles slowly passing by. The kind of guys which you might keep, and even ultimately try.

But I hope you see what is truly weak, after sharing such strong arms as these. I hold you now, but not in hand. I hold you still in great esteem.

If only you would esteem yourself, you'd walk on surer, more stable feet. Not into the arms of a tragedy, but into the future which you deserve. Holding tight to a steadier hand than me.

You were a fourth born, snow-born, breeze
Wild as the first sight of a western scene
And I was surprised, by the furious snow
As I didn’t expect you so early that Fall

The hardest part of a mirror in mind
Is not the seeing
It's the not running

What do we say
To a god of death
Perched precariously high
Upon this rocky way?

Do we walk
Or flee or fight?

Either way
With the spit in its eye
We say not today
Not today

Never give a man of words
The silent time to fly a plane
As he'll take off and write your character in the sky

To be alone is no crime
To be strong like oak
Or to spin like the baler and his twine
Because to be molded is to wait to be broken
Apart by the falling folds of time
To be falling out beside yourself
That is a shame but not a crime

The struggles and vices of another.
Are no less genuine to them, than you are to your own.

For we all have scars, and struggles, and little selfish lies.

The kind of thoughts that say that THIS or THAT or HE or SHE...will satisfy.

When they will not. And you know it.

Though the full weight of the oceans breast
Should crash down upon me
To crush my bones and burst my chest
I will not forsake the name sound of my God
I will not

No matter how much you thrash
Or fight with believing
The moment that you think
That either beginning or the act
Of swimming, will save you
You cease to see the reason behind seeing
Behind being
And the ocean