I'm an eagle,
that flies high above the basin.
Or, am I a snake navigating the forest floor.
Fate is what answers this.
It's cold reaches high and low.
One strives for the sky,
but walks among meadows.
Not knowing of twig they break,
or the path they wield.
Am I an eagle?
I would like to be,
high above the heavens.
Far from the roots that hold,
and nourish.
Am I a snake?
Meekly making way through thicket.
Always finding passage,
through life's perils.
Yes, only fate can answer this.
Fate will choose.

It is neither here,
or there.
Not behind this door,
or maybe this one, no.
Tis not high? Or low?
Oh, I’ve forgotten so.
One can be pleased,
as I have misplaced this.
My steps miss-traced,
something could be amiss.
Though, it is difficult,
to lose such a thing.
Its hands wrap around my neck,
as it clings.
I can’t hear it ring,
what sound will it bring?
When it finally comes back.
Oh, what happened to it,
I feel like a lout.
Where is my self-doubt?

You murdered me,
during spring.

You said the words,
among elder forest.

It was space,
that divided the earth.

I in darkness kept away,
dying in black.

Light and luster far,
as the sun.

Hand only reaching,
to things and you.

You murdered me,
with space.

Though, should I
or have I begun?

To feel the tussling
Of blurring bodies.

Transforming and dancing,
Through these very halls.

Where aching is thick,
and a embrace is a release.

Should I begin?
How should I begin?

Swallow the dagger,
stabbing from behind.

Let it sit deep in my stomach.
Push it further, where it can’t cut.

Where will it end?
How will I begin?

Under lock and key,
Just where I left it .

It escapes as it did just now,
conjuring a puncture to bone.

Blood flows,
Rushes out into the world.

Is this a release?
How can I heal?*

Pouring out,
It tastes salty on the cheek

The color is dark,
cold to the touch.

Purging the night,
that stained blood black.

Sifting the chill,
of steel from bone.

Ringing out whats left of gore and fluid,
down the drain.

*I can begin now.
This is the end.

Snow falls before us.
Through her eyes,
the sky collapses.

It tumbles gently.
Laying softly,
as lovers hands.

They are still as white.
Slightly covered,
by ivory silk.

Snow still falls.
A blanket of calm,
weaves through.

Let it keep snowing.
A tranquil scene,
as her eyes closed.

Let it keep snowing.

I am walking.
Pushed slightly, by the northeast.
My companion yellow in color,
fondles the air with his muzzle.

Our strides take us forward.
Galloping cracked pavement.
Exploring familiar arch ways,
of hemlock and bittersweets.  

Our view is panoramic.
With flights honking in the distance,
as they return to the waking land.

We huddle at the top.
Where we watch the day,
tuck away into eves pocket.

This light is special.
It is a sensation of nothing,
and everything.

It fills you and the land,
with just enough.
Then swiftly dims away.

Leaving softly.
Is truly a perfect,
ending.

How did I get here?
Upon this bench,
I sit.
Watching the frames,
fill and flicker.
It is screen play,
you see.
You are the star.
These other entities,
they are just extras,
in your world and mine.
So, I watch the scene,
as laughter echo’s and
foot steps scamper.
Audiences infected,
by your momentous energy.
Although they do not know,
you, nor do I?
Or is it that I do not understand,
this metaphor of distance.
I wonder about the end,
of this tall tale.
Tragic?
Dramatic?
Happy?
I wonder…
How you must think…
of me?