Acceptance is the only way to build a bridge,
The strokes across the waterless crops,
& modern day life.
Incoming, a storm, on an adventure,
Like a child, senseless & free.
I hear the midnight bells aching,
Across the rooftops.
The maroon fire from ink spreading like cancer.
The choice we make, when we reach that certain point.
Is to never do it again.
This is how the bible was written.
A parade in the aftermath, salvation.
& we become ourselves without even knowing it.
This spared dark water planet,
Eats away at time.
The was no sun, no moon,
Just abandoned rays of darkness,
Stumbling from star to star.
I saw myself,
Building a bridge.

Gifted is I,
Who Challenges Love,
And In A Whisper,
Fearful,
Yet, I Write As If It Were Only My Heart,
..And A Tree.

But Unforgiven, is I
Who Listened To Death's Piano,
And After Each Tune,
Relaxed,
Yet, She Sings As If Pain,
..Is Her Happiness

You were born with needle & thread
in your hands. Your family was choosen.
You were a star birthed from the dark
life. With feet designed for a treasure hunt.

The more you pretend to be something
you are not. The more you"ll dream
thousands of dreams, that mean nothing.
Your lifetime looking for answers,

Became a long while of regret. Must a
tree live his whole life focused on growing
tall. His ego may cause him to forget to
give shade & he will die incomplete.

When you have said, "I am lost". The
shadows whom birthed you will whisper this,
on the most silent of nights. " If the thread
has led you to be lost, then maybe you

are not lost, maybe you are not listening".
This is that story.

The quake of oblivious control,
aimlessly sends me spiraling.
I feel a break in the tumble,
Realizing the forged signatures from
Those who seek calculated risks.
I am only a human,
With this life thrown at me in a hurry.
Stars march & chant.
Revisiting the nights shallow freedom.
Displaying cuts of bleeding light,
A treasure to those who see its dance.
I have come far for a drink,
Of essence.
The book, we share on the darkest gravel,
Having featherweight ambitions.
The mornings betray my dreaming.
My flaws accept the rituals.
Whatever will, I have left,
Becomes a map.
A velvet initiation, to wonder again.
To seek the ways of life,
That many call disappointing,
& Pointless.
For it is I, who sees a ribbon on true beauty.
Each day following a thread to a lake.
Following the sequenced whispers,
Telling me, I am Moonchild,
Giver; of redemption.

I remembered an old train ride.
That, long wait of being myself,
Moving in motion, No control.
I was lost but finding a way. Some road.

I remembered the extra attention
from the sunlight. Causal springs,
with the egotistical fan , wallowing,
in the windows.

Relief, was the lake, fireflies,
An enchanting song from birds, shifting the air.
Thick moss on the biggest rocks.
Fish, living silently alive, below.

I remembered sleeping on a current.
A cloud was out, worried, calling my name.
I was a drifter. Usually alone.
Hidden somewhere, reading a book.

Thinking of a different life.
A tale,    shared amongst the kings ,
and their scrumptious wine.

Thinking I was magical, or could make magic.
The softest touch, a warming burn.
The seeing our entire life together,
In just a hug. A real one.

I remembered who I wanted to be.
The talented, honest man.
The conductor of Love's choir,
With an audience of only one, just her.

A fountain of flaws, but a christmas smile.... Diamond.
Not the one for the world to see.
But the one to show the world & evolve.

Art, is my freedom.

Riddling a million words into a fantasy.

A chant of treasures, and golden eyes,
      It was easy to fall in love.

The sway of destiny and her cunning, charm

The grape, blue sky at night, on sunset,
       A rare feeling in the stare.
                   A voice.
Sometimes I throw a wish, in an old well,
            For signs.. A coincidence even..

Hoping one day to live an art,
          Dreaming in the rivers,
              ......  that salsa to a cliff.

An aura of existence, noticeable complexion

Redemptive healing, Pure water, of life.

Art, was each step after each breath.

The deaf soldier who slept,

             through the windy storm.