Stomach full of stream and sand, sometimes I sift gold.
Passing through to understand,
that fingers never hold.

I love the world most

When it let's me be

To just sit and breath

And to think of these

Most fervent truths

Which are known to noone

And inparted to everyone

As a part of me

In our seeing we are one

We are free

A word from noone
Means nothing at all

But a word from someone
Of significance

Is more harmonized than the angels’ song and more beautiful than the most heartfelt verse to ruminate within the soul

This song is the sound
Reincarnate of love
Feels like to me
In the absence of be
And yet
This song is the sound
Of reincarnated love
Indeed

Ill will held on
Dries out my hands
And cracks in the sky are never welcome
Hence why the attempt is never planned
Though apart from my old self
I find, I am
And yet
With contented say grown out of sigh
Though I may be quiet
Having pushing myself far away
In the silence, know this
You are always welcome
Le nathlam hí

Hold my hands, look into me and see the truth.

Meet me in the deepest part of the glowing forest.

If your heart is there, next of Gondolin, the same as mine.

How beautiful the stars to shine atop our heads.

Like the crowns of old. As the glowing trees ignite your eyes.

As mine have glistened at this very thought.

Perhaps to meet you there at all,

Would make my heart glow as a Silmaril.

For not even I know when this glow was crafted.

Formed out of the unknown and the song.

I wait for you.

Though to Varda your eyes,

And Yavanna your heart may forever belong.

Seeing he
with you together
The similarities
do not perplex
So much absolve
Me of the truth
That at least in together
you’re with someone
like me
Maybe
a little bit

On days like this
With heavy flakes
Tumbling down
All around
I wish I had another set of eyes
To lose myself in
One more time

*Mirror me
And also you
My mind

Two great rivers
In different valleys
Wishing we could run together

You sing your Iris and I’ll sing my Creep
Hum Yellow to my Yellow Lights
So that all the night can see
Such unchained, unchanged, melodies

Nothing makes my heart sink
Faster to the bottom of this chest called ocean
Than a clueless defiance
A disregard for the most basic
The most respectful quiet

Have you ever known the most of this?
Or the truth which is
That it pulls a young man by his feet
To the bottom of the sea
When he realizes that
She isn't thinking about you

Sit and stay
Until the clouds unravels
Till the hot coals glow
And the night calls you back
Try and try as you may
To pull the smoke out of snow
And it will outlast your hopes
For a clearing of day
Though I would be happier still
If I were creating along thr way
Sometimes the quiet
Is the creation of self
Sometimes all that you can do is just
Sit and stay

Twist and turn, our woven ways
Make gaps no more to close
Let death be the only unweaver of us
Tied to myself, you’re close

The greatest mind above your clear life
Born in openness and bright alight
Is the darkness within but a wink
Passing fast, her being free of time
And with loving eyes obscured, the sky
(is she and looks out, not down on us)

Gently
Softly
Almost sweetly

So the clouds are near to me
And to you as well

Although we are not at this time
Standing right here or there beside

How these clouds smile back as they roll by
And tell us both to our surprise
That we are watching and watched over

Since long before we each sought after
That distant star in the summer sky

We are by ourselves and each other
Mere reflections in such skyward eyes

Curled up like a cat
Atop a spinning world of responsibilities

Don't wake me from this weekend dream
I can bear the nightmare occasionally

Instead, cut the lights and turn the fan over me
Breathing one final breath into this lifeless beast

You can expect me not to hear so much as a single sound
When the new day comes with an irksome, early, alarming scream

Where night ends slowly
And day begins most abrupt
We fend, waking up

I am weary
My eyes are wandering aimlessly
My forethought having long since lost its ability to see
Anything beyond the warm bed in front of me

O' my old friend
How I long and wish to return to you again
To pass the day slowly away
Until I am refreshed again and eager to live
Outside of this abnormality

Because I miss the normal visions I have
And this, whatever you want to call it existence
Is a much sleepier, far less enjoyable version of me

For I am weary
And yet I want to be
Rested without having to waste my time
Investing in the folds of sleep

This I know to be selfish of me
And yet no matter how hard I try
I cannot seem to close my eyes and rest my head
At either the foot nor head of my bed

Perhaps, if you'd see me, you could understand
That I am not angry, foolish, or sad
I'm just a slightly tired man

With mind turning ever slight
Hands on the wheel
And no arm of yours in sight
To be wrapped around this old arm of mine
I will drive on out
Into the night
Into the unknown of the next good day
As I praise his name
And drive on by
With a questioning mind out loud in my
Ever turning inward sight

A slight smile by the side of my face
A wrinkle, a ripple in place to see
Beneath the surface
And to trace the essence of the has been me

In peril elsewhere I may be
Or not
And yet
Here
In this quiet place
You may find
A small piece of me
And my quiet mind

In peril elsewhere I may be
Or not
And yet
Here
In this quiet place
You may find
A small piece of me
Of my quiet mind

If you mind
Their small mindedness
Their mindlessness
Will become the beast which kills the creative genius

Fell beings are we
Who delicate our time
Not to those causes which are above us
But to the strength of arms
And the will of the mind
For our own success
Do we see it, whatever IT may be
Though

We are but stone stirred ripples atop the lake of the all knowing.
Ever flowing, ever moving, always steady, always growing.

Stretching out like the limbs of an overhanging tree.
Reaching out like the hands of the lovers lost at sea.

Desperately, we being again, in the shallows we are saved.
And yet I am cautious to advance upon an overlapping wave.

I am in awe to understand, that I am asleep, and I am a wake.
And no one ever knows the impact of the ripples they create.

No one sees me when I smile
Wider than my eyes can bear
Cooler than the coolest spring
Which you could find within this muggy summer air
Because when I grin
There is no sense of urgency or care
There is only me and my eyes which crease
Like folded paper flying through the humid air  
For my smile is this
Not because I wish to hide it
Or even because I overly care
But because my purest form happiness
Is only seen when not prepare
Alive and well in its natural state
Most often outside and always wide
Something you might see across my face
As a representation of what's inside*
(:

When I listen to jazz
Hot like seeping tea
As it cools like coffee directly in front of me

All I see is the ocean
All I hear is the swishing sound of the sand being turned to glass
Beneath the feet of an unwalking rhythm

Unwaking and amiss
Good jazz doesn’t walk a straight line as this
It’s a drunken rhythm and a deep sip
In love with the indescribable, naturural, eternal bliss

Every human has a world locked inside of them
And the eyes see the snow globe
When it shakes, and when it falls
And when the internal wind swirls and blows

Ache consumes me through
Like snow melting on the rails
You saturate mine

The sound of snow is a beautiful thing
Catch every snowflake, you could not
But the earth can
Like the marching ants in the fruitful spring
Snowflakes need not tiptoe through the house of winter
Instead, they patter a song to sing on the frozen ground
And we, as humans are helpless to stop it from falling down
With tiny little pinprick sounds
The reign of winter falls all around*

End of storm
Beginning of season

Regarding the snow
I hope we get hammered
I hope we get hit

I hope that the wind just blows and blows
Yet cannot decide which way to go
When carrying for us the blessing of snow

How I hope to get home
And get off these roads
Be it into a ditch
That way for a moment
That way for a bit
I would be left alone
Be it just for a minute

And if you're smiling now
Then you can relate to this
So get going dear related
Before the roads turn to slick

How I hope and hope with an honest heart
That we would see storms
Of magnificent art
Capable of incapacitating the means to work
At least in part

The hollow, empty, fickle words
The accounts and all of the time there spent
Social media is the death of all things good and decent
I say again
Social media is the death of all things good and decent

Though other introverts may shy, I will learn to appreciate such things.

I will link experience to metaphor, and liken this noise to the birds which sing.

Some unaccompanied, and some with voice. Some with the lyr atop the strings.

I learn this though its not in nature. We humans are such fascinating things.

Pointed, sharp and searching, ever in. Some people are needles and I the thread. Integrate me if you must, though I will not be sown of my own accord. I would much rather spin in perfectly spooled schools on my own. Thus, is the nature of the singular thread, alone. Sometimes seen. And sometimes integrated in both step and social seam.

But to the occasional social seamstress, sure.
Cut me in.