The doors of ancients opened,
Now broken, we can go though,
A powerful magic releasing us again,
Free to return to reign once more.

Wandering through the ages of time,
Tangible to see and feel the imaginary,
Farewell, I go far away from here,
In a world of dreams and the magical.

Now you approach me,
Come in to me and fill tonight,
Chase away the darkness within,
I ride the night by your side.

Shadows flee from the pure light,
Give me the power of the air,
Winds, hear me, call my name,
Blow into my very soul, give me hope.

As you enter my room of enchantment,
You feel my spell weaved and you fall,
Lie with me under the cover of the night,
Under the stars draped around the moon.

Leaves fall without fear,
trusting wind to hold their weight—
earth will catch them whole.

~
She smiles only in pictures
Her hair is growing long

With eyes closed
Au coucher du soleil
Her voice is dulcet
Her laugh is nexus

"Take me with you," she says.
"We'll make kites, we'll steal land."

The gentle arrival of rain
In the blue hour of
The portrait gallery
Makes her qualified to dream
About a serenade of water
And the blueberry boat
~

Once the depth of the earth spring rules,
Creation flows lulling life growing in gloom.

Softly lying there in slumber sweetly bestowed,
A spiritual being in their safe and loving abode.

Ages past, the brilliant beings becoming vain,
Light drains, drips like cruel toxic acid rain.

Evil's pendulum almost tolling the twelfth hour,
Severed now maternal connection, oh ego's power.

Time of innocence revered amongst grateful ones,
She preserves life, a sacred tree amidst pure sons.

Protectors, those left and in the Mother's favor,
Awaken the souls to our origin, then we save her.

I dreamt of a world in its time of purity,
Without corruption, the touch of obscurity.

Everything and everyone in balance, bliss harmony,
Lions lay with meek lambs, eco justice, not money.

I exist in the abysmal state of solitude, where I, whose existence survives in profound literary pieces, could fall short of mere words penetrated—cast against me. Where would I be if I can't find the right words to say?

In front of me is a sweet orange juice menacingly teasing me with its dazzling pumpkin hue. Beside it is the apple pie I swore my life I would never put in my mouth. Yet, the sun glistened brighter when I gently put my fork down and absurdly ate it with my eyes closed.

The sadness that lingers deep within enthralls me more, as I swiftly swallow and digest it without tasting all its flavors—just so I can return to reality. I try to keep it all together, even as my spirit is crushed by the thoughts that seep in, nipping at the edges of my soul—through the cracked window of my vision, and the half-drunk orange juice. These thoughts keep coming in, like an intense downpour after a shower. I have tried to write this simply, yet I could never find the right words to say.

I could never forgive myself.