In the fog of mornings
and twice closed eyes
my dreams spelled you.
All the pain of reality
had been lifted from your face
your smile shone like diamonds
in that quick to disappear dream.
At least here you're happy
those narrow moments
where the world can't touch you
of course
neither can I.

All my dreams are made of ice
tinted with gold by your memory.
Like ice
they turn to puddles
with the rising sun melting the moon in the morning minutes

Insanity is only
a thought away
Soon I will fall
into the void
where the self is gone
and so is the world

where no one can help you
and you have dissolved
where nothing is big
and nothing is small
time has lost significance
one moment is eternity

no ambition and no desire
no love and no hate
hollow and dark
smooth and rigid
where can you go?

Even in death
there is no escape
from the infinite cycle
of life
of madness
of never knowing
why I am here

The wind
it talks, you know
it stirs your soul
and whispers softly
into the depths of yourself
"Here is the mystery,
here is the point where all things
are born, and all things die.
Before existence
there was I.
After death
there I am.
I am your mother
I am your father
I am you."

Right now
this is the home
of physical
of spiritual
ethereal, tangible
known and unknown
fact and fiction
truth and false.
Right now,
is the home
the very marrow
of creation.

To be here
what does it mean?
To rely on others
as others rely on you.
To feel the weight
of life itself.

Breathing
miraculous
mind and body
as one.

To be here
is to cry tears
because emotion
needs release
as an old body
needs death.

To feel love
and to give love
the greatest gift
wondrous opportunity.

Suffering
dressed up in a dark cloak
disguised and misunderstood
the face of grief
is that of transformation.

The mind creates conditions
the heart knows better
love together
hurt together
human beings
together.