Maybe i am the tainted dust that settles beneath
that infinite evening sky, and
Perhaps i am the winter ground that lay hard
Between the living and the dead
Could i be the orange sands that stretch
outwards into a vast sea of fire
Is it possible these arms, hands and legs
are all fabrics of immagination
If i, Myself am this mighty tree reaching outside
itself, high above those lofty branches
Am i then in need?

I can not live forever, and i am surely
no God or prophet

The barelys gold fingertips brush inder mine
I am transformed, Transfigured, movement
occurs in realms i am not to concieve
Simple nature leads me from my flesh, it
Carries me adrift in its vaporous arms
I am unobserved above my form
If nature were to set its motions suddenly against me
dropping me back into a skin prison
if i were to offend with empty phrases
and a crazed loose sword lunging forth between teeth
Would she ever take me back under her intangible wing?

Time beyond us and time before us
As though we were ghosts, beginning at an end
And ending at a beginning, we posses elusive forms
Where within oneself life i hidden, waiting
To burst forth into some bright and glorious day
It is of too little significance to a world
A world such as this, that i should die
And soon become less, and soon become more

Dream more? what substance lay between bone walls?
Live less? Being, Thinking and doing is all you really have
Chose life, life for a penny, for a song, life outside hands
Just out of reach

Simply musing
time spent, time worth losing
These are lifes finalized ending distractions
Uncountable introspective golden reflections
And so if my soul be carted away tonight
I end with love, with life and joy
So much as to being with an end.