The desert,
A sea of sand, drought and dry air under a scorching, blazing Sun,
The wind may feel alike a cut, which burns through your senses,
Relentless, the heat takes over by day, yet by night it is cold enough to freeze you if you come unprepared. Such would be a foolish idea,
A dessert of thoughts, driving into my brain, leaving ideas uncovered
Leaving productivity hidden, under the sand of hatred and self doubt
Such places, landscapes, covered by firy silicate or ice are truly lethal,
Such state of mind, covered by uncertainty is truly lethal, for ones wonderful creativity, for art of all kind, conveyed or material, if you might wander through such a land without any guide to help out,
Worry not, for after every drought comes rain, blissful rain to fertilise the soil of thoughts which will blossom in wonderous ways, to shine,
After all, motion without movement cannot be possible so try to move
A wise friend once tought me, that if you give it enough time, even a nigh impossibility becomes a certainty, even a desert could be a forest
But until then, be patient my dear, even the most deserted place, carries some beauty in it, no ?

~ Umi

Spilled directly from my heart and soul
To you
From some year
In the past
Something
I just need you to know

I'm but twenty years of age
And I know nothing
Of the world
And nothing
Of living
Except
What I do know
Which is close to
I admit

Nothing

When compared
To great lives
Lived many times
Longer
Stronger
Greater
Larger
And even
Shorter
Weaker
Lesser
Smaller
But I am
Who I am
And, again
I've only lived
A fraction
Of what is considered
A
"Life"

But lately
I have an urge
Not really and urge
More of a
Want
But a strong
Want
And that
Want
Is
I want to raise a child

Strange
Yes
In times past
I'd be considered
A man
I'd be expected
To have a job
That paid well
And
The built-in
Instinct
To fight for
My life
And the lives
Of those I cherish
Deeply
But
On the inside
I know
I'm but a boy

I am not a man
By any stretch of the imagination
I am not a man
By any means at all
But
Out of nowhere
Over the past
Year
This sensation
Has been getting stronger
To have a child
And raise it
With someone
I love
A burning love
A simultaneously
Firy, cool, encapsulating, enrapturing, hexing, invincible, forever
Kind of love
And to raise it
With their best interests
For the future
And to impant
In them
All the love
In my heart
And have them know
That
As long as I'm around
Everything
Everything
Will be alright
Everything
Will work out
The way it's meant to

Because it's true
And I know it
It's just one of the things
These twenty years
Has taught this boy
However
I wish to give
This child
Everything
And
All
And
In order to do so
I have to establish
What I need to
Find an adequate
Source of monetary income
And
As hard as that seems
In this day and age
I will
Somehow
I will find a way
If only
For the life
Of my future
Child

a lone something in the sky
flies near, just by mischance
dazed by the smog,
bowing
and diving
downward
into the parting, cracking,
quaking
bellowing of tar
from the firy, sputtering lungs of these alps
eons worth of cries released in mere mouth-ajar gasps
of the earth diverging and converging
into the debt of always running clean,
running me
always downward,
as in the deep
deep
tessellations of rock
I become.

too still for my own good,
I guess –
another voice on the ash-flow tuffs of
breath to fill the mosaic
of sinewy
stripe-patterned goodbye and bygone
plating into the deep,
deep,
deeper caverns of the unseen sea
slipping off the mantle, an accident with intention,
as an echo caving downward into  

nothing,

nothing,

more

nothing

polluting the depths from the palisades,
scripture rupturing lowshore into
surrounding tissues like
igneous stone
dreams of clinks ringing,
of noise
a voice
on the ash-flow tuffs
in the always running-clean water
the purity of which I intercept,
the clear-ness of it;
a sinners window.

through what's left,
I see the clam
another mouth for and of the sea
unseen,
the pearl
as unsoiled as ever