When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.

naked laughter is the best thing i've ever seen
and the sky
ripe with lights
from my dreams
seems
to team
even when empty

Left to their repose
the grass blades seek shelter
under the sun
it is without effort
that they themselves
are free

Let It Be

It's just a thought,
but maybe this really is
as it seems.

Perhaps
the mountains
are truly mountains,
and the rivers
rivers.
A symphony of liquid,
notes called drops,
but you hear only one song.

It's possible
that light
is color,
because a broken thing
is still
itself.

All of the loose ends
might meet by chance
in a white room
when they find themselves
searching
for the beginning
again,
but
it's just
a thought.