is round, and

round  the table,

the few.



spoke in tongues

of age and wisdom.



smiled the crease

of ages.



so while all is flung apart,

we watched, waited.



we were near the sea.

This consistent need to change
This burning desire to be better
Am I slowly changing for good
Or is it good that I am changing ?
I think a lot, speak a little
I dream a lot, act a little
This constant void that I feel in my Life
Why, why, why, I think to myself yet again
Caught in this trap of monotonous mind battles

Could not see tomorrows
Could not hear past
Could not say present

They are stripped by tomorrows
They are struck by past
They are arrested by present

Time's all gifts stay beyond the Time
With weeping tunnel
Without lights and lines...

There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh

We can be strangers if you like
We can talk about the weather
Our silly plans for the weekend
Or how life has been kind to us
Trust me, I'm a terrific actor
You'll hardly be able to tell

We can be strangers if you like
Or at least we can pretend that
It doesn't shred us to pieces...

You had me
With Spring.

He had wings that
gave him flight.
The sun was
beautiful and bright.
It melted into the ocean.

But there is danger in
flying too low as well,
just ask the mermaids in
the depths of hell.
The seawater screws
up the lift.

Fly to safety and
peace,
not the
fantastical or
far-fetched.
You don't need to
have it all.
Beware of

too

much



ambition.

To love and to be loved,
Oh how lucky one is to have both.

A warmth that neither time nor tide
Can wear away or coax to loathe.

I thought we would be done by now.

But I keep finding more of you
between the lines
and more of me
between the letters.