the ripe winds
perch upon the threads of
western disturbance












days dissolve in sadness
find me when this ends

tell me about your
experiences

lets go for a walk
before it's too late

i'm awake just
for you

and i never sleep when
you are not looking

i stay still until the
alarm rings

and it is your time
to leave

early morning when
the songbird sings

there you are
never here

you've loved me in
the spring

and i've been in love
with you ever since

dying of sadness on
a tuesday








trading through the
vastness of liquid turmoil

flowing and cutting
across the narrowest
of vengeance

that has laid upon
this land flourishing
under a disguise:
of mere nothingness and
certain similarity;

for who knows
what converses with the
frigid north

and talks to the
passes of the mighty
peaks of middle Asia

walking past the grandeur
of the Himalayas, and it's
many ancient towns

where no other
has been of any importance
whatsoever

there in the sweet solace
of solitude and crisp sunrises

i find myself dreaming
of the tranquil winds, and
ancient passageways:

far from Nazareth and
the cradle of men

where the old brick
roads now sleep in dusk

and there's nothing
left to conquer

built upon the spectacular
-- on this olden earth

i find myself yearning
for little things.