Clarity of mind,
like a window pane,
can be a lens to observe life;
but regardless of how immaculate,
there will always be a film in between
hindering true limpidity.

What is in a smile,
the silent tongue we all know,
that creates a homely feeling?

An occurrence so quick—
it's infinite.

A defined word—
impossible to describe.

Your muscle tension—
a natural response—
a reflection of a lax face formerly grinning.

Strangers acquainted by a shared moment—
a second whose detail would take a lifetime to limn.

When an unexpected smile arises,
the heart—a light, whose brightness is love—
shines intensely, spreading warmly through body and soul,
*forever resplendent.

As we travel through the mountains--
our vessel snaking round each mound--
I wonder how we seem to them,
merely ants marching on the ground.
Two by two threading the treed lea.
Man's existence becomes irrelevant.
A leaf on the ground is unique,
yet a forest before decent.
We each are a puzzle piece here
to a jigsaw never complete.

Sleepless night.
Dashed lines on either side,
one handled wheel in front.

Glaring gales from glassed gasses
add weight to twitching lids.

Close
Open
Close

Open.
Bright light blinding--
beams reaching out--
The fingers of God warm my face.

Eyes adjust as I wake.
I straighten up.
The road stretches on.

Tables scattered--
Round illuminated islands.
A snubbed cigarette whispers its last words to the room.

Vanes spinning--
Records circulating air.
Hypnosis settles like a dusting-- coating the mind's past troubles.

Her voice--
Softly traveling in waves.
Weaving a blanket-- alms soothing a once cold vacuum.

I now know bliss.

I look and stare at the beauty of your pair—
so new, their intricacies I now study.
The color is subtle and quite comparable
to my desk’s dark grain where sun and wood have lain.
Lost am I, in those eyes, such that senses die.

Eyes pull away, gazing now at that smile’s stay—
it’s kind and shy, and encages butterflies.
My heart will palpitate with a feather’s weight
each time those lips take rise— such, is love’s reprise.
My mind rests on you, and tranquil thoughts ensue.

For you I pine, with your hand clasped in mine—
these feelings transcendent of lovers just met.
Your eyes—a spark—inspire love and fire.
The latter I fight, thus this verse I indict
for its aesthetic appraisal. Your Musal
qualities mold my virtues to grow twofold.

To want is a specific desire,
not to be confused with what we require.
If a cozy sweater is what you need most,
don’t forget those who need the warmth of fire.

If one needs, they will fight to remain alive.
When you want it’s just for a new way to thrive.
To want can seem quite selfish, but half the glass is full--
the need to rise past the mundane helps us strive.

If one desires a hand to hold and love,
is such an act like caging a cooing dove?
Do not let your dove be cooped without a key,
their wants, compared to yours, should be held above.

When you want, keep this simple idea in mind:
What for you’ve pined may agree with the divine,
but hold close the ones you deem ethereal,
for a wish that’s perverted He wont find kind.