Painter sits down
Strokes sun light dipped in moon light upon fjord.
Crystalline blood blooms from valley.
Bird flys high in the sky.
Wind speaks for the earth.
Splish
Splash
The waves crash amongst each other like uncontrollable dominoes.
In the forest
Alone are the spirits
Wolves and deer stand restrained by there own silence as the golden sun rises.  
The painter redips his brush.

let it come.
let it hit you as hard as it may.
let it sting; heartbreak always does...

then let it go;
you are stronger than this grief.

You're born
Told who to be
Told What to do
Told what to see
Told how to be you
Told how to feel

Then one day you see what is real
You see the hate
You see the pain
You wonder why this is our fate
You try to remain Sane

One day your up
One day your down
There's tears and a frown
Other days you're a clown
You get angry
Which is scary
Then you break down and cry
Until one day you die

Taught how to live
Taught how to love
Taught how to hate
Told its our fate
Then its too late
Taught its not ok to cry
Noone teaches you how to die
We're told its all about love
I guess its all comes from above

Today I woke up with the smell of snow cast upon my senses.
A cold grey shadow stretched like a quilt across the inside of my house.

Snow falling like wet feathers.
The intake of silence echos across the white glittering crystal blanket that is perfectly scattered hither and thither across my endless horizon.

I step outside to helplessly embrace the winter air. It fills me up like a tree in the summer filling up with water.
Snow drops dew upon my delicate eyelids.

While I inhale the snow exhales and together we work as one unit reckoning the perfect balance of the natural world as we know it.

The space between the note is a curious reckoning that flows through the vains in my fingers. A symphony in my head. Silence is the beauty of a song. With every choice there comes more choices. In every silence between the notes theres is the moment of eternal silence and the ability to choose.

Twigs falling.
Static tv.
Golden amber leaves soaked in old raindrops.
Grey skys.
Wind is whistling.
Trees are breaking.
There is a storm coming.
Coming for all of us.
Booming thunder.
And then the sky falls and the light shines through.