(Is there an emotion for mystical? I suppose it would be to be mystified. Perhaps awe is the word I am looking for.  I was in awe at the sight of him! I was beyond mystified!)

It started in the Yellow Wastelands.  Where life went to die.  As life dies there, they become a part of the Yellow Wasteland adding to his spread and growth becoming a sort of crystalline lattice.  All go willingly to the crystalline whisper. The whisper in recent theory emanates from the shining yellow crystals that grow among the Yellow Wasteland like blue bonnets in the Texas spring.  Once the Whisper is heard the victim willingly partakes in what we call The March. The March is a mindless saunter to The Yellow Wasteland where upon arrival they lay in the yellow dirt and slowly begin crystalizing. We have tried stopping The March. But have been unsuccessful for many years.  During the state of the march the victim gains a strange, extraordinary ability to control others as they see fit. If one or a group of people, try and prevent the march they will be controlled by the whisper to put the victim back on track.  The final equation that we cannot solve is why one hears the whisper.  There seems to be no pattern whatsoever.

On this day my daughter heard the whisper. We walked with her for hours on end.  My wife and son followed shortly behind whilst I walked beside her talking about memories and music.  My son then caught up and started to play his lute. He played song after song and sang beautiful lyrics that they wrote together.  My wife would then catch up to fix our daughters hair and clean her face as we walked and walked toward The Yellow Wasteland.  There were times where we would walk all together in a line and pray and pray.  

Over the Wolf's crossing trail was a hill. The hill was now called.
" The Last Ascend."    The Yellow Wasteland can be seen below.  We started the ascend up the last ascend.  Tears flooded all our eyes as we were powerless to stop The March.

crystal tears turned to dust
i’m done crying
unless I must
i’m done buying
our time back like it will revive our lust
i’m done with the late nights and the I love yous
i’m tired of looking at you and not knowing who
you are now

but then I will think about the beautiful crystals
that formed through our years
beautiful
but sharp
painful to look at
it is beauty to love
but it is pain to lose it

You're the true instance of virtuous human.

Your mind as pure as crystal,
your heart soft and sound like waters.

everythang about you signifies peace and harmony,
love and respect. Your feeling is so true.

Your life is a blessing, and you're such a special prize from the mother Earth to my soul.

And to the whole universe. Super human.


Human, crystal mind, love, harmony, peace, respect, blessing, Earth Universe 🌌

"Let me look
Into my crystal ball"
I said sarcastically
With my eyes closed
A ball of laundry in hand

Our future could have been
Beautiful, bright, treasured
Like rare crystals or gems
Alas, the 'leaders' are close-minded
They are only open
To money and power

Now, to keep myself
Safe and sane
I have to shut myself away
Form a diamond-hard shell around me

I am not saying
My visions of the future
Is unclear and muddy;
I am saying.......
There is none
The only window open
In my hellish prison
Is the one where fuel
Enters to grow this inferno

Though I may look like any other piece of glass
No one wants to see in me and so by me they  pass
Because I am broken I am cracked,
4 broken pieces to be exact.
I see their reflection staring back
Disillusioned with me
Once they knew I couldn’t fix them
When I was the one that needed to be set free.
Im sitting on the shelf waiting to be bought
By the brave soul who will take me as I am
Someone who just won’t  give a ****.

Just because I am a crystal ball
It doesn't mean I’ll give you what you want.
The hope, the faith you have in me
That I can give you what you want me to be.
But the truth is you will be afraid of what’s to come
And maybe you’ll understand where it came from.
Once you see inside, you’ll be afraid of what I hide
There is  grief and  there is  anger
But most of all there is revenge,
Can amends be made
Or will it be the end?

A year ceased to the known,
crystal to each other
selves of their own,
clear as day,
but the day's long agone.
Her voice still etched in his ears,
and as it appears,
it sure won't be gone for years.
Years to come, years to go,
will there be another to the known?
each day passes in this question's wake,
another day of talking and giggling
over something his mama baked?
will there be yet another night
skinny dipping down the lake?

crystals stuck in fields
people believing the things
they wish were real