Something speaks to me beyond this reverie;
I've been along this path enough to know just what it means.
There's a jolting recognition -- more than curiosity --
and it's blooming like a lotus with fearsome symmetry.

I didn't mean all this disrespect
towards the open arms of sacredness--
I couldn't recognize your hand
behind the veiled disguise.

I know you're the epicenter of the confluence,
but when we flow together out of this sea
will it be in wretch'd despair, or in rapt ecstasy?

If I sit silently still long enough
I'll hear you clear beyond this clamor,
but everything grasps for fragments of attention
with tendrils curled symmetric, poised for desiccation.

I
don't
know what I've done.
I was messing around, I was having some fun.

I
don't
know why I tried
to **** off the seconds and ****** the time.

Now
I'll
face what I've done.
I will stare down the shadows escaping the sun,
but the night's just begun.

I
was
just sitting there.
I was tapping my fingers and combing my hair.

I
was
sitting up straight,
I was balancing all of the pieces at stake.

I
then
thought this to me,
I thought: "I'm feeling funny, I think I'll agree
that the night's just begun."

I
heard
bells on the wind.
I heard echoes of laughter and all of its kin.

I
saw
things come alive
with the essence of nature that makes us all thrive.

I
felt
things fall apart
with the rolling of thunder that thumped through my heart,
and the night's just begun.

I
flew
out of this place.
I flew out of the building and out into space.

I
flew
down to the depths.
I flew past all the serpents, with plenty of breadth.

I
went
straight through the door.
I went right to the heart, I went right to the core
and the night's just begun.

I
found
them in a cave.
They were lapis and emerald, too bright to state.

They
were
made up of stars.
They were too close for distant, they were too near for far.

They
turned
attention to me.
They said: "We'll give you a chance, you should probably flee
'cause the night's just begun."

They
said
these things to me.
They said: "You've wasted your life pursuing this dream.

Why'd
you
do what you did?
You had so much going for you, and you're only a kid.

You
tried
to face the abyss.
You wasted your talents, and we'll just mention this:
the night's growing dark."

They
burned
my body to ash.
They scattered me with lightening, with one giant crash.

I
fell
from clouds to the ground.
I fell on a pile of rocks, nothing more than a mound.

Why
won't
this night ever stop?
I am stuck on this mountain, I'm stuck on the top
and this night's growing long.

That's
when
she said to me.
"Oh, my child, don't you know that you'll freeze?

You
think
you've wasted your life,
with petty distractions, and unnecessary strife.

How
else
would you know what you know?
Your mind is quite fertile, it's starting to show
that this night's growing long."

She
made
my body whole.
She made all that was extinguished continue to glow.

She
bent
crooked to straight.
She balanced the forces not a moment too late.

She
sent
me on my way.
I understand, without having to say:
this night's almost done.

I
don't
know how to repay.
That act of kindness without going astray.

So
I'll
do what I can.
I'll be honest and open, always lending a hand.

And
when
the night's getting dark.
Don't fall to pressure, don't give up your spark,
and you might see the sun.

Sail away into obscurity,
leave the past the way
it may choose to be.

Untie the clever knots
of education' s reign
and the Hell it's wrought.

Travel far beyond obscenity,
and hang your hat, timidly,
to live with calm serenity.

Sail away into obscurity,
without contrived security.

I never could count backward from infinity, the concept of eternity casually eluded me on a silver-back horse holding reins on the floods of organized cacophonies speaking louder than the silent ones. To the silent ones with frozen mouths caught quivering, consumed in doubt: don't let the symphonies of simple minds convince you that you shouldn't try. Forget these medieval magicians bending spoons with indecision -- they're just jesters sharing feasts with crooked beasts, swept up in the tide of disappearing time like rivers ripping rightly through the earth to an oceanic expanse of karma-laced incidents. I can  tell which moments are meant to be, scripted in the folds of destiny by the way space crackles opalescently then glows and ripples incessantly. The ancients knew the riddle, and wrote the verse in broken words.

I want to be the last bough bending by a brook as a dozen on-lookers overstate the understood in a field of frantic fever-fighters fixated on the moon. Stop, drop, break a neck, then lay in bed and recollect the days  before the disconnect when you kept your bright eyes side-lined in complexified complacency while the golden winged effigy decayed into degen'****. Multi-state probes propelled by a whim skitter like arachnids on the surface of your skin with words like a finger pointing at the sun that stop making sense before their job lies done. Who now will step down celestially with alchemical agility just to let The Spirit flow through them with exponential intensity as imaginal orthogonality skips with divinity? When'll be best to choose to confuse and diffuse every up-tight, no-sight tool on the loose then flak shrapnel to the castle as a billion petty hassles gathered up and coalesced as interrupted innocence? 'Til then these strides keep pace with the center of the storm, just inside the whirling swarm of wailing souls abandoned and forlorn.

The empty office hums
as air-conditioned drums
rattle through the ventilation
and I sit idly with time for contemplation.
The day rolls forward unopposed.
As I've read: "So it goes."
With a sigh, I make my tea --
an infusion with elderberry --
but that alone doesn't warm a mind
limping out of tempo with the time.
My soul's too slow to keep this rhythm
of skewed self-perception and idiot-ism.

Know that I'm afraid to express my love sincerely,
because every person I've known I hold equally dearly.
Nothing special exists inside my love,
where no one is treated as below or above.
Now if you pass me on the street,
you'll know me when our eyes both meet.
I'll smile from my core for you
and I hope that you reflect it, too.

Many are the ones I've loved;
few are the ones I miss.
There's only one I'm thinkin' of,
and I left her up north in the mist.

I left one sunny summer day
south, to make a life.
Now that I've made my way
I don't think I was right.

Many are the ones I've loved;
few are the ones I miss.
There's only one I'm thinkin' of,
and I left her up north in the mist.

These city-folk aren't even sane,
and I don't think they care.
How can I enjoy the rain
if she's not even there?

Many are the ones I've loved;
few are the ones I miss.
There's only one  I'm thinkin' of,
and I left her up north in the mist.