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I had lost myself in heaven
that I had started to unravel
where I was once from
it was peaking dull— super unfun
it’s too stunning in here
to believe any of it is ever real
So I’m by the lava
walking a flimsy plank
waiting for the halt
when it all starts to fall
then I’m in to think
that it’s really worth it all
for all the fun i’ve rolled

oh, so back when I was young,
but not so wild and free but
now i’d twirl finally—
I’m so wild and free
when I’m not supposed to be
Oh, what lava dipped rods
The world had built on odds
They’d grit upon their walls
Then roll them onto salt

When stars would demise
I had to once too—
It was all full of lies
and very little truths
Then I got hoisted on stars
Then you’d tune your voice
To the world, that I was once
a mere student of yours.
But after, and whatnot
all i ever was to you
was just bitter noise

these are— were, things and a few bits
I’d never thought I’d reminisce
about before.
Not even when I ran foot
through the very first door.
But that’s how I dream
and live— blues seem
to stealth upon every bit—
of my widowed soul
it always guards me.
except when I happen to stick to sad
I never feel sad at all—how odd these all are.
I seen God
and then that’s all I could see!
Such fun he’s having indeed
Pretending that he’s suffering
Pretending that he’s poor
Pretending that he needs a state of peace and war
And so we rest upon our thrown
and dream until we turn to stone
……
Traveler 🧳 Tim
 15h Nick Moore
Emma
The sea unfastens itself,
spills open over stone.
I cast my grief into the foam,
watch it unravel,
then return.

The wind moves without purpose,
pulling at things already broken.
Memory, a thread stretched thin,
still refuses to let go.

The fire took your name,
spoke it once, then turned to ash.
But even in ruin,
something lingers,
something waits.

I call the water to take it all,
to wash clean what the light exposes.
But the ocean is a keeper,
a quiet mouth that never forgets.

Regret drifts beyond reach,
splintered, sinking,
too heavy to lift,
too distant to call back.

And you—
a breath, an absence,
a shape the tide cannot hold.
I step past the harbor’s edge,
and walk into what remains.
Oh what a week and what a day, so glad to finally be heading home from work really need to unwind. I'm just sharing this last few words I wrote... when I get home I'll try to write about my experience of the day but right now I'm still under shock and unable to write...
The gift
of a friend
A blessing
from God

An arm
that protects
A light
in the fog

The gift
of a friend
Enduring
and true

For life
everlasting
To live
— inside you

(To My Dear Friend, David Mackrell: February, 2025)
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