A separate sky screams louder on a breeze.
When you find me running from the night,
just hope that it doesn’t follow you.
The days that breed creation begin as they end,
and men might be responsible.
But few can show us why.

A separate sky is ageless until it learns to fear.
We know this moment will come,
but we hope the sky doesn’t learn from us.
How we carry ourselves will show her
what she must do.

A separate sky listens for the cry of freedom.
As long as we envision that we are all in worlds of our own,
we can never realize that we have never been less alone.
They have been warned,
but the message lies powerless
confronted by the ashes of the past.


The skies remain separate for as long as we believe that they have to.
So don’t waste your time believing in me.

A blessing disguised as a curse.
A patch of light devoid of conscious spirit.
Serenely rests the sky upon the horizon when it is truly seen.
And can never remove the golden ring of the sun.

The wingèd hero makes his escape and his return
As we lose the distinction between them,
So circuitous in his path.
In the end, I stand, peer beyond, and run for my life,
Until I find it.

Mystery surrounds it, Love controls it.
The skies lust for its freedom.
Speak, and only hear.
Open your eyes and watch them as they close.
Reach out, and learn what it is that stretches too far.
Learn what you thought you already had.

The birds preach the scar as they split the air between us.
They will fly on, they will proceed.
Constantly in front of you, but never ahead.
4

The stars board the bridge to our hearts,
Formed by the point of a finger.
3
4

The world is on my shoulders with nothing beneath my feet.
We move together and within each other, and we lie in an eternal fall.
As we wander through the fog she lies on the other side. She is here, there, everywhere.
She falls the same as we do, just from a different place.
If we ever meet, it will not be me as I rise, but her, as she falls.

Though I never know why I am in the fog, it is not being there that has me lost.
It is from where I came, to where I could possibly go.
I have been running from the fog all of my life, only to see that it is the fog that runs in my sight, running from me. It surrounds me, because it trusts me. We share a connection like no other, but this you will never see. This, I can bear no longer. And yet, this, will be protected with my life.

No emotion captures what I feel . Nothing works, nothing lives, nothing dies, nothing is.
All that occurs is the fall of the world on my shoulders, forcing me into the fog before it can Depart, perpetually. I am the stranger to the fog, but not for long.

I am the stranger to the fog, but not for long.

As it was knocking , I locked the door  on a world i used to know, in the misguided hope that it might go away. He stayed there, knocking , laughing , knocking , singing , sneaking its way through the door and into my head, and knocking again. It’s been there for years , Fallen victim to this grueling routine. Not simply waiting for me to unlock the door , but for me to join him in this tirade against the minds of men. Against whoever else could be inside with me.

Through a ripple in time I heard a voice.
Another half of me was calling, navigating her way through my dreams and fantasies.
She needs me to come hold her hand as she makes her way through the frozen sky.
A hope spoken though a breeze, her tears overwhelming the rain, her heart rising with the sun.
She lies where the fantasy met the reality, her soul glistening with truth as she opens her eyes.

I've gone off to find her.

If you’re looking for me now,
You can find me within the depths of her mind,
making my way into yours.

For now, after my journey through her world, I will reside in my own until she finds the path to the threshold. The thoughts and memories fall behind the feeling of purity and love that surpass it, standing as nothing compared to this ripple in time. A short string of hope and fated chance connects the worlds we inhabit but choose to live away from. At the highest peak in each is the the portal, overwhelming to both of our perceived limits of possibility. It is felt, but never written. Never will we get there, but we still make the attempt perpetually for eternal grace. We  believe We'll never get there. We don't even know if we want to, and we never will know. But its still possible, and it might not be our choice that brings us there. The string still remains tied where we can never see it, beyond the hope that it evokes.

And as I soar through the mystic universe of life's procession away from her, and back to the spirit of true eternity , riding the energy derived from the possibility of that separate life, the thought of her eyes transforms to the inevitable bridge of reality , returning me to oblivion as I cross. And when I forget her, as I thought I wanted to all along, I wish I hadn't, because its something I still need. Whatever it was, it brought a clarified pain, a slim yet existent chance at love.  A lust for her touch, resistant to mistake. Irreplaceable in an instant, yielding the essential component. I hope I never remember, but I hope I never forget. For a love forgotten is a love lost.

It seems that I don't want to get there, because there won't be anything on the other side. If I get to the other side I might miss everything about where I am now. I can feel it, steering me off my path, recklessly consuming my desire to a point of ultimate destruction. I dont want to get there because I no longer trust that it is real... or I fear that it will to be too real to make sense of. All emotions strike at once, leaving me to wonder if I really can change the way we think and live, if I can ever find one that I can trust. When a path opens up, I close. If I hadn’t i might suddenly seem perfect. Thats the last thing I want.

Dont near me again, before you make me think I am.

Spin. Another turn on the road to the fine line between us. Im getting dizzy. If I walk the line I wonder what would happen if I fell. You couldn't catch me, you're already here too. I won't see you there, I might not even see you ever again. I dont know if I'm supposed to.  Always and forever I make peace with the rain but fall victim to the wind. Every time. I'll award you the time to get yourself together, before you spin me into my fall.

Riches and wealth, fame and reputational respect... Glory. The inspiration behind the future in which we find our presence. I see it that way, so you must too. Right?
If that's all that can bind the future, still open to our will by nature, what could possibly lie beneath this present breath? Not much. I'll distance us in health, soul from heart, will from chance, life from death, peices to a puzzle, good riddance.

Lying on the floor, disoriented from the reality and truth, empty and bleeding out. In the shape of a boy, aging from man to child. Blinded, helpless, split and torn, mistaken, losing the war... But never lost. You have me like this. You have me. You.

I could forever be lost, but I'll still be by your side.

Slide in behind me and I'll try to remember not to panic. Like love itself, make your way beyond me, and show me the way ahead... But don't move through me.

If a world is turned upside down,
Does a man follow?
Can a man in ascension be lost to us
but accompanied by our trust?
If a man follows in the path of his world,
where does he stop?
When does his world begin to follow
in his?


Can the weight of his world be supported by our ignorance of its existence?
At that point does his world really exist?
When it’s all turned around on you,
do you ascend before the world?
Or do you supplement the force
that restrains it in fear?


Are you worried that I know you too well?