unfettered depths this ocean mind
****** by clouds and vaulted skies
the broken promise lies beneath
a thickened heap of ugly truth

the cold and unforgiving chide
the beautifully over blessed
they look to god as if to claim
their place among the best

the king of kings the emperor
has left the throne vacant
the driver's seat is purple stitched
and available for rent

but to occupy that lofty place
comes with the heavy price
of self deception corruption
and adoption of the vice

unwillingly it brought me here
then turned around and ran
and left me here beside myself
without a map or travel plan

to stand beneath a sunlit
flowering cherry
is to stand in the
presence of
god

i carry many telltale scars
but the deepest of them all
lies at my dead center
a permanent reminder of
the lost connection with
my mother

in my eyes there's a hope
a hope that floats on a sea
a sea of possibility

and as i swim through this world
this world full of wonder and horror
bathed in the wonder i felt as a child
while chasing the hope of the unkown
and the horror of the unknown
of this premordial sea on which i float
of how so much depends on me

i see that the unknown is all that is known

i float alone on the unknown
and it haunts me
it excites me
this sea of potentiality
that utterly surrounds me
and i float on alone

alone

afraid

and in love

in love with the unknown
in love with the hope
the hope that the unknown

is love

the clouds sing in hushed tones
reverence for refracting
rainbow drops of light
when all is poetry

the river whispers praise
rounds the bend and pools
in silent blue-green depth
when all is poetry

the tree creaks quietly
jealous of the rushing wind's
uprooted flowing freedom
when all is poetry

the snowfall mutely patters
piling high as if to save itself
for approaching warmer days
when all is poetry

even death's fearful staring gaze
with its toothy jagged grin
somehow loses power
when all is poetry

and the miles of shattered dreams
are ground to glimmering dust
and sprinkled on broken hearts
when all is poetry

the world's many melodies
both dissonant and pure
make us what we are
when all is poetry