You've got a glow
like a star.
From afar,
I wished on you,
and now, there you are.
Looking at me
from behind those
eyelashes,
smashing
my inhibitions
like broken prose.

Pretty you,
whom I have yet to meet,
I greet you,
sweetly,
and ask you this:
would you miss
the moonlight
if I stole it from your eyes?
The mirrored glow
they show
is more bright,
and not to my surprise-
how could
even the moon
not swoon,
lost in your gaze?
Moonbeams and
starlight, both
seem to have
lost their ways.

Could you tell me,
pretty you-
did the wind put you there?
You have taken
my breath,
and shaken
the air
around your face.
Such grace must
surely fly-
so how is it
that you pass me by
here on the ground?
Don't misunderstand,
I'm glad you've
come around,
pretty you.

Pretty you,
I hope I'm not
too fresh,
but my mind is
a bit of a mesh,
and you're pouring
through it.
The sound of
nature stopping
to admire,
like moths to a fire,
myself closest to
the flame.
Tell me,
pretty you,
do you have a name?
What word could be
crafted, such a beauty to frame?
Surely, anything plain
would only defame.

I'll be honest,
pretty miss,
my heart tells me to
chance a kiss,
but I know I shouldn't
rush, but take it slow.
Instead, I have another plan
to sit here, and maybe
hold your hand,
and under moonlight,
your voice, get to know.
But should the passion overtake,
don't be shy, make no mistake-
I won't be put off should you choose to,
lean in close,
just
like
this...
and like so,
steal a little kiss...

That would be just fine, pretty you

There’s a man standing at the end
He said, “I’ll welcome you but only when
you walk the length and breadth
gasping for air and cursing the depth
of the suffering you can’t overcome”

It’s a path not a nail my son

There’s a woman standing at the head
She said, “Be born into this misery instead
of thinking it’s something more or less,
it doesn’t mean what we all bless
or any of the things we have become”

It’s a path not a sword my son

There’s a mist floating you cannot find
It revealed something to your mind
“It is not where there is water or dust
or within the heart of shiny things that rust,
but you are deaf because you only play a drum”

It’s a path not a stone my son

There’s a light alternating between dim and bright
It waits while you gather for a life without sight
But what guides you will not speak as you wish
It only feeds those starving for bread and fish
While you walk with those who will not come

It's a path not a judgment my son