Waiting, for this song to end
and somebody
is waiting,
for a song to begin.

I'm love
I'm alive
I'm something
I'm a friend.

As I slept,
I dreamed I was falling,
Violently hurdling towards the earth,
Increasing...
Increasing...
My back deployed,
I started to decrease from falling, and was beginning to glide.

I glided into a forest,
Filled with the most wonderful,
Fruits
Vegetables
Trees
Animals speaking in tongues

I then was confronted by a man in a woven cloth,
He stabbed me in the collar bone in a most benevolent way!

He smeared my blood on my forehead and condemned me
to feel the pain of his ancestors
for my kind had made him suffer
I promised to him that I would take everything all of it,
I would give it back to his people one day,
We wept under the tree's
He spoke to me,
Told me that I was the true white buffalo,
and that the others were just imposters,
that gave a bad name to the term,

I looked all around me,
At this point in time knew that the fruit was not for me and my people,
That its roots and stalks were on the same soil that the natives were buried under!
We are not supposed to be here!
I will leave when I have my chance.
and now I weep for every passing plant and tree every spirit of the earth that has faced our destruction.
Genocide
Destruction
Inhabiting
Manifesting
Corrupting
Lifelessly moving along the horizon in search of nothing but finding.

I don't know anything at all....
Well maybe i know something,
honestly something is always more than nothing,
even if it is just a little bit,
It will always be more than nothing,
Even if you put all your effort into it,
Or even if you exerted even the smallest feather weight of a force,
At least  you put something into it, or else it'd be nothing,
Nothing was learned if nothing was done
and somethings you should have never left your thoughts,
some thoughts would never get to be uttered again
It takes serenity to know the difference,

I will not be back until Sunday,
So I will keep a composition,
I will keep a pen,

Until we meet again,
I hope its not an imposition,
cup for grandpa in astral cafè.

night* *passes,
My eyes lay awake,
While his close...for an eternity
He will slumber....for eons and eons
He will be remembered....Like a Golden Apple on the family tree

                                                         ­                                                                 ­                           So for here on out, I cast all my shadows from whence they came.
Leave me be, I'm going to find the buttermilk skies.