As the giant elders whisper to themselves,
in their secret, silent, oaken tongue,
we pass only hearing the rustle of the fallen.
Their shadows keep us cool, alive.
Their kin share the same eloquence, beauty.
But ignorance leaves the beauty unnoticed.

If we were to just open our mind and see;
our feet would be cemented in the ground,
but our lives and souls would be free.
Her beauty lies everywhere. Like
the sun's true colors we seldom see.
For her beauty is not only seen: but felt.

Our world's serene scenes are rarely seen
for we never seem to search hard enough.

How can I live in this old world
full of guesses and assumptions?
With so much to touch and feel
but there is nothing to reach;
For my arms are too short,
to spread the clouds,
and see myself.

In my alternate world, I shared a dream last night.
Where he lay alone, searching for a life to light.
But the man who thrives himself, is split in two.
But stitches arise from the sea soaked in ocean's blue.
None were beasts, but they they all bore crowns.
Each fed right through me: hidden in their gowns.

He remains in two: one to dream, one to die.
When I'm fully drained; prepared for one to fly,
a crown-less shade appears: face shares plenty.
The opposite of he: whose face conveys empty.

A shade to stitch: a ghost whose life shares he.
I dream of him, and he dreams of me.
But the dreams I dream, are mirrors of he.
While he is nothing: but the emptiness of me.

This friend of mine in a warm, well-lit place
Told me of her mind's mistake.
A Dove she holds, in a path he flies.
But a mask he wears so she still tries.
She can rise and fall, as her mind makes.
A change of heart, or a change a pace.
But that doves path I walk but often stumble.
I'm just a Lion living in her bi-polar jungle.

To how we cleanse,
The stars do see.
Destruction eminent,
but relaxed they be.
How quick they move,
in groups they seem.
So fast themselves,
but so slow to me.
To whom do I owe,
the honor I see?
A God or gods,
Just mortal, maybe.

I'm as visible as much as the next person.
But myself is invisible to he.
My character is a shadow to she.
And my downfall is the Next Person.

This morning I woke up with a scratch on my glasses.
I don't know how they got there, I was asleep.
My world was turned upside down because of my glasses.
Something so small, so subtle, but so key.
Once divine, now earthly, my glasses once were.
Lost in a turning cave of batter I feel like dough.