Have you ever thought of where the wind might come from,
Where does it start...
end?

Centries old wood
Weathered, damp, moldy layed to
Rest eons ago.

Life is as simple
As the universe appears.
Is it that simple?

The water
Smooth, black like onyx
Tickled ever so gently
By the millions of glistening stars
That from heaven to earth fall.

Dancing on the surface
More stars bounce up from below.
Heaven passes,
The dancing stops,
Onyx return.

The beat, the snare, the drum
Starting in at the floor and flying to my brain
**** all the people who say I’m numb
I’m sane, oh so sane!

My thinking, once a cloudy, congested, coagulate of incoherent thoughts,
Now flows free from its once catastrophically, closed chasm,
Bringing fourth meaningless, mindless motions and movements,
Showing all, that you are who you are, don’t be afraid to fall.

As the smoke clears, the crystallized casts of crushing vocals
Radiate to my ears; all we hear is the hate, the hassle, the hustle
The bustle.  Look beyond what has spawned to see what you find fond.
Blinded we remain; we fight, frightened and furious against this foe.

Conformity hinders our ability to show individuality.  They attack us
With ambidexterity to keep us statues of our own subconscious design,
Yet we continue to follow these wrongly deified prodigies.  They’re using
Us as antibodies to cleanse what are others conformities.

Enlightened I will stay to ensure Elysium for my fellow enthusiasts.
Free from these prodigies, my persistence will not fade
To grey, black, white, withered, wretched wasted thoughts.
My mind is free, my soul deep, this music is the up-beat.

The glow of a midnight moon touches
The tears of night’s cold gaze.
The moor rolls heaven’s stars
On into the great forest.

Who will ride to the grove
During autumns chilly nights?
None other than the moon worshiper
His cloak loose and divine.

Knots of the Celts painted on his face
His eyes envy green.
To the grove he rides to meet them,
The druids of his own clan.

Their horses hushed at the grove’s edge
A circle formed with rocks.
Each flattened stone with a symbol,
Matching each of the worshiper’s cloaks.

Chanting begins slowly
Their arms raised to the sky.
To the moon they pray for life itself
Pray they never die.

The fire burns brightly
From the moon to the druid’s heart.
His soul one with the forest
With the fire he heals its pain.

The ivy begins to sprout
From the trees of the grove.
From his hand to his fingertips
The moon begins to glow.

The yellow glow swirls round,
The great plants begin to grow.
The runes pulse with ancient light
The elders raw power.

As their eyes burn bright
The trance still strong.
The worshipers chant slows slightly
His eyes still envy green.

The arms all fall.
Their heads swing low.
The runes stop their humming.
It has been done.

To his horse he walks,
On its back he mounts
From the grove he rides on autumns night,
The forest now full of life.

though skys manipulate woman
white winter wind drives ships beneath the gorgeous sun
lazy and smooth spring floods shine partly in luscious gardens
worshiping the Goddess is a dream
black forests spray weak frantic pictures on the moon
less delicate symphony's of whispers scream you and i together
delirious we smear your chocolate hair and honey skin
mad & drunk with love they beat time in a still summer
their music like rainstorms chain life & death in a shadowy eternity
what I want is to swim your void of sweet milk
leave you running atop mist and water sleeping by me
we sing chants by tongue painting a vision of true love
moan this essential language
in our bed sweat away all aching and sadness
cool light soars from blue petal to pink rose
these raw elaborate moments crush & shake most
up boy
go girl
under bare feet power beauty