Night, gripped by future thoughts I lie,
Mind nocturnal, never blinking eyes,
Day's events and those to come don't rest only rush
Heart hastens shadowing  pace, moves respite out of touch

Perspective the enlightener sprouts a shoot,
A momentary distraction which begins to take root

Breath is vacuumed slowly from nose to chest,
Streaming laden air out, a peaceful wind lays upon breast,
Mind slows recognising nights familiar touch,
Sleep content, knowing, I'm but a mindful piece of dust

Life is lived between the waves
In those moments prior to being carried or pushed,

What make you of those moments
When life’s ocean ebbs and flows

Infrequently offering just enough respite
That you may catch sight of what awaits

Whether its better to resist against or float atop
Is not sometimes known until afterwards

To know so little, arrive at land
And walk forth

It is friendship, in that, being friends is what matters most.
Yet dangerous friends, we could be lovers,
Passionate impulses, should we be *******
Not touching brings uneasiness,
So we kiss and stare,
Shattering anxiety laden air.

And so I have lost you, and I have lost you fairly
Yet we gained a piece of each other
The end, those honest hours shared
A glimpse, a touch, a taste, of a temporary reality
A beautiful thing, made more precious by impermanence

Yet, something that we felt, since that first time
How can it be explained,
Chemistry paints too primitive a picture
To occupy, so much of the other,
When circumstance and situation should not have allowed

Existing on borrowed time,
As we found new ways to give time contusions
Almost always effortless despite obstacles, and stretched ethics
All or nothing, is everything anyone deserves
In our all, we may have found everything

Nothing is fairer, than something

The garden grows in all directions
Amidst the influence of interfering hands
The waterfall in motion is ceaseless,
Whether asked kindly or implored

Made powerless by that which cannot be changed
Yet, made powerful by knowing that which cannot be changed

The garden grows in all directions
Gardened by our hands
The water falls around us
In the spaces that we created

Offence has no real validity,
Yet it is used to justify the taking of lives
Is there one, that the world does not offend
If so that person has not lived or felt,

Warlords, rapists, racists, murderers and those who are cancers on society walk among us daily
Those who profess to know the will of god and act on his behalf,
Perceiving  and executing unhelpful dogma that infects our reality  

The words respect and correctness have become harbingers for cowards,
As our muteness silently strips us of our freedom,
Apologies are offered gift wrapped in fear
Sticks and stones still break our bones but pictures and words now ****** us

I could write another boring story of her comprehensive beauty,
How all before her are brought to a pause,
But that's not the case or the truth

Truth is her beauty is finely balanced, To some she's ugly
She's not sweet tasting, but rather, strong and passionate

Words tempt my tongue, as hers are often crude and unnecessarily pointed
Her look, somewhat disguised, is not soft or subtle,
Her gait lacks elegance and fluidity

Her ideals, still orientating, while her desires begin to de-fuzz,
Her intellect steady, growing, but rusty in its current environment
Experience limited, yet pursuit of it growls, signifying a growing hunger

So womanly, so weak, so strong, such foolish bravery,
So much wrong, so little right,
Such an attraction I have never felt,
Such beauty I have never known