Oh great Mystery ~
My Love, a tangled moss.

What gentleness preserves in playfulness,
like silly string~strung thin
along the limitless landscape
that forms the truth of your existence.

For in your mind is the treasure seen,
in your vision is bliss obtained.
Through the nature of your deeds,
decides the nature of your salvation.

Till thoroughly the soil of your soul,
for the seeds of your thought bear the sustenance for life.

If the flower be fragrant,
the honey is sweet and the trees be fruitful.
It's branches will extend
into the realm of peaceful spirit,
vast and luminous beyond compare.

Such clarity of light will draw down
the plow of eternal renewal and the
soil will be as rich as the seat of your soul.

Go forth ~
Labor in silence and rejoice
in righteous song and dance.

circumstances, misunderstandings
its these delicacies I mishandle.
not much space to be my self.
the water rushes in, my lungs fill.
these pesky circumstances,
wishing telepathics was our shared interest
knowing the path of least reistance.
it is clear and known.
the ram within,
her courage pulls to charge,
born again, shifting of the stars.
where these **** circumstances start.
cause I know what they are,
the objective sensed. senses need fine tunning.
nervous system, tunning. feeling tuned in.
the wind brings the faintest of messages,
listening closely.
zipping out Zs and As, connecting strings
centuries in length.
worlds deep, together receiving the sweetest melody.
in that breeze, where the circumstances pause, briefly, as they sometimes do.
sometimes you just misunderstand me.
a lot of people do.
and I know I just dont get you, either.
circumstamces of the stars, the dance
of the ages. minds infinite expansion.
I just want to span it, crack my set of code.
pay forward, encourage growth.

so much to know, well for the moment you know it.
after that its history, past, authenticated through
your mind, your slice.
oh what it is to be alive! to survive these
circumstances

i used to dress my words up in all their sunday glory
before i sent them out into the world
squeaky clean and sunday morning i was determined
to let my little light shine

forget a blue period
my next phase was all about
boiled down to the bare bones honest
pretty didn't have any consideration
or private
but my words met metal

then the weather turned wet
and i sobbed along
wringing my grief out of loose pages
and you still stopped by
and sometimes you'd even sing along

then i prayed to be taller
to stand straighter
to be more of what i am

i got lazy and lined literal words up
all in a row
lauded for creative
cause everybody knows things like that
can't literally happen

Maybe I'm just
A brain
Floating in space

Attached to
An akward body

Do I
Even exist
At all?

I'm tired
Of this place

Of Earth

I think
It is pretty ******

God guy
Or whoever
You are

We are growing
Weary
Waiting for
The Jesus guy

How many more years
Decades
Will we wait

Who knows

It's an empty world
Full of emptiness
And loneliness

I fell asleep
For an hour
Or two

Woke up
And thought
I had slept
Through the night

But is was 5 p.m.
Not 5 a.m.

But it's all the same to me

Nothing changes
Just rearranges

No woman to hug
No one to love

I'll go climb a tree

Oh Death,
you my favorite card,
you my wildest courtship,
you who broke me open,
coaxed me into spilling my secrets,
and now,
you are gone,
leaving wreckage behind.

But wreckage is not
annihilation.

Oh Death,
you paved the way
for things I never thought possible,
razed the worst to the ground,
without even knowing.
I can feel the seeds of something
new and good
spring up within me.

Oh Death,
I don’t want to die.