No matter if it's
guilt, anger, love, loss or betrayal.
Change is never easy
We fight to hold on and we fight to let go.

The ink smothers papers in unforgiving battles of writers.

Where fame outweighs the need for imagery, the structures aimed to be masterpieces, broken into master pieces.

The imagery lost with the message as words wonder about in disorganized sequences.

The meaning becomes opaque, as perspiration drowns the paper,panicing impatiently your words are flooded in pools of poems, so they fade and drift away, without any views or likes only dismay is displayed.

At least when my breath leaves the last
I know which way to go

I was in a dream I heard them singing
I walked through the walls of the yard outside
I followed and there they waited for me

The path was a little track 'tween banks of moorland high
Not desolate but filled with flowers
I stepped gently so I didn't disturb
Voices in sweet harmony

I joined in the song and they twinkled brown eyes
As I finished they all began to rise
I went with them along the little track
To a wide open space in the moonlight at last
Follow, follow

We danced, I jumped, my feet sank into springy snowgrass
It was fun we were laughing in lovely dark shadows
Deep ultramarine and stars then I left them at last
Found myself sleeping on hard stones birds chattered above
With a song in my heart of unconditional love
What a gift

it's quite cold out here
dark too
but mostly I have the stars
to remind me of you
I think about the others
the ones that hold you near
but it doesn't really matter
because i am so far out is reach
for I am very small in your universe
uncounted and betrayed,
and you are the reigning sun
almighty and praised,
a great distance from where you are
I crave to feel your warmth
but maybe someday when you dominate everything you love
I will be left, for we never met
and while I watched from a distance
alone in my existence
I have yet to grow out of my irony
for I am remembered for being forgotten
and I hope for a better day, where you'll know that I'm here
but for now I wish you happiness,
it should stay that way
so even while you do not know me,
hello my love, most call me Pluto.

The incessant march of time, is marked by the music of seasons,
wind blows, clouds race, rain in torrents fall, flowers bloom,
when I invariably return to see that perennial bloom on your lips,
time stands still, how we love this space beyond the reach of time!