I know that I am one of a group
Whose members are able to see and listen
Rather than look and hear.

I see the curtains drift in the daylight
Dancing with the summer breeze
And I know that what crosses my vision is but
harmony and rhythm, true components of love.

I see the tall mountains, topped with snow,
And I know that what befalls my sight is but
Time whispering through our home, all that we know;
Governed by Nature, the source of all knowledge,
Nurturer of all faiths, philosophies, and ideals,
Mother of all kings, scientists and priests,
As they construct their Gods, laws, and kingdoms,
Underneath the shade of the crescent moon.

I see the ashes and dust woven in our skins,
infants seeing their first speck of lights,
elders breathing their last breath,
and melt into the earth, as creatures always have.

I see the soul in the eyes of fellow animals,
And see their love as they gaze into mine.
You see, animals and humans are but one of the same;
Breathe the same air, protect the same possessions,
And love the same blood.

I listen to the prayers of the waves,
As they descend upon the earth,
And I hear the songs and laughter,
The dirges and poetry,
That the sea has gathered from
Old World to New World,
Eternally, forever unto time.

I invite you to join my group,
And share my sights and thoughts,
For we are all brought unto mankind, this home, our Gaia,
To understand and learn,
to see and listen.

On days like these, I look to the west,
seeing the dusky mountains, reliably in formation,
and my mind drifts skyward like hawks possessed;
I start to daydream of the wild midwest.

I sit atop my stallion, whiskey on my saddle,
surrounded by solitude as I dash through the trees
while the sunlit wind plays with my hair as I straddle
through the untamed lands catching outlaw disease.

Whirlwinds brush the dirt off my brim of my hat,
riding through nameless territories void of borders,
happy, nay, blissful to explore the wide open space,
who could wake up while riding at this pace?

Setting my spurred boots upon the wooden chest
I stoke the fire and the cabin smells of leather,
my tired cowboy soul sleeps through the stormy weather,
ready to again race into the western sunset.

If the world is an oyster, you're my luminous pearl
If the world is a stage, you're the Juliet in my enscribed destiny
so as long as the world spins, life's mysteries unfurl,
for forever, evermore, as you bring out the absolute best in me.


If time is an illusion, I'm the cunning illusionist,
If there is no Heaven, your presence proves angels divine,
and your love clothes me; I wear it on my wrist,
a beautiful circle, as I am eternally yours and you become mine.


If the world is a Garden, free of all woes,
you're the one royally red rose,
and I smell your passion,
so cloying and so ****,
through my soul, enduringly perfuming my heart

Flanked by port & island lights I solemnly write,
above hidden depths underneath silent tranquil wake,
strumming mine passion & shedding own sight,
to offer vast seas pure passion to take.

A skyline pilgrim, I poignantly pray,
as sky with coral mists glide leisurely past,
none 'cept tempest strides my heart's roaring bay;
I find myself vanished with the sea's spell cast.

It's beautiful now, but you aren't here,
and you won't find me here, I left long ago,
my thoughts are hazy, but the water's so clear,
let us drink one more before I go.

A toast to you, always to you,
towards that moon, oh that noble moon,
I raked down into sultry blue,

thinking of you,


it was always of you.

There once was a young boy of thirteen years,
who loved a girl with blue eyes shining bright;
he was her world and she was his light;
one was complete when the other was near.

With strawberry milkshake faces and linked lollipop hands,
they walked the Pacific beach, overcome with smitten smiles,
enscribing their names in the rusty, copper sand
"A promise," they said, as the ocean kissed the land

"I'll be with you regardless of the miles"


and with this, he gifted her the world, it was sealed,
tragedy approaches slowly, but can't penetrate love's shield.

When the teacher's back was turned, he would pass her notes,
simple poems composed by his heart;
one wrote;

"Roses are red, violets bloom high,
the world won't suffice, let me give you the sky"


At home, her beautiful blue eyes cried.

Under the stars they sat, tender soul mates, two of a few,
he didn't understand, a lost child, confused and bare,
her wig fell into her lap, locks of beautiful blonde hair,
looking into her blue eyes he breathed, "I love you"

and with that sacred declaration, the sky belonged to her
with devotion as sure as the sunrise, warmer than mink fur

Later that month, on one incandescent night,
they sat on the moonlit shores, as the western wind sighed
her head on his shoulder, smiling, closing her big blue eyes,
silhouettes upon the sands, holding each other tight

As she slept, as the nightingales fly,
she dreamed of him, her entire world and sky,
never waking up, though a smile graced her lips
with his poem held snug in her delicate grip

"Roses are red, violets bloom high..."



Now a married man of sixty-four, he dreams by and by,
of the two walking the Pacific beach, overcome with smitten smiles,
her childish laugh resounds like heavenly songs in the sky,
for he was her world and she was his light;

in the sun, her beautiful blue eyes shining bright,
in the stars, her beautiful blue eyes shining bright

Does it all come together
In a burst of light
Or a spark of shadows?

Standing down the street
And watching the flames
Tear down the old fortress,
I look to the sky,
The tortured, screaming abyss
Howling at the dusk;
a wounded wolf abandoned.

Hearing the blare of the brass horns
Triumphantly declaring its cautious victory;
The people cheer for structure and order
And reject the children of Reason,
As they cross the border into the forest
Never to emerge again.

I think,
This vapid notion of turmoil,
Which colors the ground with rust
And solitary drops of rage,
Clearly ties a steel rope
around the beautiful people,
fighting, fighting, running,
endlessly through the town
to the next;
can they ever hope to change?

I am looking for you,
with heart and soul kindly,
Seeking your traces,
ever so blindly.

Time and wind,
So fast and wild,
leaving footsteps,
at where you smiled.

Meet me at the shore
where I stand today,

and maybe this time,
you'll choose to stay.