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I'm on my third jar
and I never drink
more than two
but now this pistol
looks lovingly at me
more than you do.
Beyond the nebulous sea of stars, where the cosmos weave their tales,
In the depths of ethereal realm, a harmonious saga prevails.
Two lone souls from two different worlds, under the canopy of space,
Bridged the cosmic divide with love's ever radiant grace.

A man from the verdant Eden, where rivers of knowledge flow,
From a world of dazzling sunsets, where time moves slow.
And a woman from icy Terranova, the realm of unending nights,
Home to the aurora whispers, and the dancing polar lights.

Each heart, an echo of their world, distinct as day from night,
Yet when they met 'neath the interstellar arc, their spirits took flight.
In the tongue of the stars they spoke, in the language of light they learned,
Fathomless wisdom they shared, cosmic secrets they discerned.

His strength was the fruit of the sun, her wisdom, the northern star,
Together they spun the tapestry of peace, their love resonated afar.
Their planets, once divided by the cold and impersonal void,
Now linked through the enduring thread of unity, love deployed.

He taught her of Eden's symphonies, she showed him the Terranova skies,
Together they wove a story, where neither world belies.
Sculpting an epoch of mutual respect, where understanding never dies,
Two planets once alien, now bound by unbreakable ties.

The man and woman became beacons, a paragon of interspecies accord,
Their love, a testament to peace, a melody struck on the cosmic chord.
Through them, transplanetary societies saw, that despite the differences vast,
It's the shared light of wisdom and hard work that forever will outlast.

May we remember their love, their journey that proved so enlightening,
Two hearts from disparate worlds, yet in harmony, uniting.
For in the grandeur of the universe, their lesson is our guiding star,
Peace and collaboration will take us together, no matter how far.

Look upon these lovers, their tale a celestial refrain,
Embrace their spirit of unity, let no boundaries remain.
Be it Eden or Terranova, or worlds yet unseen,
Love, peace, and collaboration - let these be our universal theme.
I can only deduct
It is not our's to keep
Provided by the sun
The particles of the meek

I can only conclude
I'm riding on a wave
Paddling in different directions
Sifting through the haze

I can only decipher
My thoughts in simple words
Weaving through this emptiness
Connected to this earth

We can only dream of
That which we cannot be
Free from these stages
Of human suffering
Traveler Tim
 Apr 14 Rob Rutledge
KN
There was no one to hear my laments
So I told them to the wind
The wind told them to the trees
The trees fed it to nature
And nature understood.
Free from assumptions,
from the endless “why?”
the burning need for a unique sign.
I move just one small step back
to protect my lands not taken.

Sometimes enough feels quite soft
like a rotten tree trunk covered in moss.
I can sit and rest for a while,
diving deeply into the forest of tangled thoughts.

This time, I would like to be gentle and tender
to my inner world, to my tired soul.
I let it be calm, I allow this time
to give myself kindness.
Loved or needed—needed or loved?
Does it still deserve to be a question?
This doubt will never be erased
from the human language.
It burns from inside
reducing plans to ash.

Do they seek to heal their broken thoughts,
or do they want to stay in hidden safety?

It’s unclear how to love all the sketches
made by routines, invisible seconds,
trivial matters
picked out from life
like slimy red, blue, and golden fish,
slipping through cold, wet fingers.

Existence as a heap of doubts
punched by blinding moments
bringing elusive clarity
that dims and flares again and again.
Needed or loved.
Loved by need,
an unbreakable union
without a sigh,
without rhythm
as a sharp dissonance.
'

row upon row
queued up queries
poppering poplars

outstretched limbs

vigilant sentinels
ever watchful of
fickle firmament

Meanwhile

***** bursting
with plaintive
prayers, spy





_ _ __ ✒
●○
°
Tendril wafted dunes
of barren sands waffle,
swirl across mile
upon mile in every direction-
your face appears a horizon away,
there is little comfort found
in accompanying echoes.

Drifting sticks
wail in the pitched wind,
stretched on distant recollection-
stylus of the scribe named Regret;
each flurrying breeze
turns a new page,
taking with it freshly shed tears.

Foetid droppings
of some wastrel desert vagabond
provide a vivid reminder
of how it can never be again,
to kick it away
would only contaminate
these well-worn wandering shoes.

Head facing forward
wherever the nose points
except in the back of the mind
where the oasis burbles-
each leafy frond conceals
intimate moments now buried
within the unmindful desert's gut.
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