I once a got a present
It was danish design
A hoptimist. I was confused.
No function. Not pretty.

Just expensive...

I realized I was a hoptimist.

So I kept it...

You see, I am not human.
I am but a soul with a breath of life.
I am love. I am art. I am dust.
I am made one as the stars.
SAME particles and molecules as the universe.
It must matter that I am made up of M A T T E R
I am limitless. Infinite. Well, I feel infinite in some sort of way.
I transcend time and space to explore its singularity.
... where love was... I began

I am with a naked spirit - bare albeit naive.

I exist
     to feel, to see, to touch, to smell, to taste and to experience
     this tangible world.

'LIFE'

I am pain.
       I am madness.
            I am bohemian.
                 A nomad. A gypsy. A wanderer thirsty for the adventure.

I am not simply made by happenstance
This is the universe. This is fate. This is our destiny.

Let the cosmos guide you. Let it surround you. Let it flow in you.

For I am part of the GRAND  DESIGN

          *and so are you

I'm your master you are my puppet.
We get along with the sickness in our stomachs.
My endless desire to show you what it means to be wired. I'm the the show choir let's build an empire,
they don't know the connection that soothes this void.
They **** what they destroy,
I made what creates hauntings to invade.
Our truth would surely set us far back.

For days upon days, come on! Time to play!
For they don't see the black in our face.

He hurts people.
Not by choice, no, but by design.

He’s like a kitchen knife or a razor.
Hurting people is not what he was made for,
But looking at the way they work,
You’d never be able to tell that.

Hurting people, for example, is not what a razor was made to do,
But it’s very good at it.
And a kitchen knife wasn't made to ****,
But with a blade like that,
Few things are more effective.

He wasn’t made to hurt people,
But when his mind interprets every breath you take as scripture,
And the way he finds earthquakes in your heart beat,
And how when even on the coldest nights
He manages to find warmth in the way your eyes glow like the moon,
How he wonders what it’s like to be your favorite hoodie,
Or how long your smell will linger after you’ve left,
How by nature his thoughts compare fire to your touch,
And ice to your lips,
When you ask him how his day was and he genuinely can’t remember
Because the sound of your voice was the first thing he felt all day,
You’d never be able to tell.

Yes, He will admit it.
He has edges sharper than razors,
And a mind that will cut you into a million fall leaves of every shade of fire.
But he wasn’t made to hurt people.
He just does by design.

When it is dark enough to hold the stars in your hands
And caress the mighty heaven's vast expanse with fingertips,
Look up.  That sky is efflorescent.  O!  All those stars
In phosphorescent twinkle, the clouds so effervescent,
Together boil an exhilarating brew.  
My lover's gaze is contagious, you see.  
May it intoxicate you to see design.

God is like a puppeteer,
That He should fashion invisible strings

To move about the dancing stars in the expanse of the midnight sky;
To bathe the Earth with light and wild colours from a new Sun;

To clothe the lofty mountains in snow;
To raise and lower the ocean tides through the pull of the Moon;

To cause foundations to tremble before His earthquakes;
To split the dark horizon with His lightning;

To give the breeze the voice of a gentle whisper;
To embrace the valleys with sweet-smelling grass and fragrant lilies;

To provide song and flight to many birds;
To shake the boughs of a mighty tree and let fall richly delicious fruit…

      So that all these things might call our attention,
Gather us all to sit down before them, watch, and fall silent.

And see
  And listen
   And feel
    And smell
     And taste

The wonders of the glorious show of His love.

Life, passing and fading,
You frown as it moves on by,
Life, calm and sedating,
Yet your beginning to wonder why,

Living, living in a box of your design,
Oh, it's quiet and nice,
Yes, and you've paid the price,
Living in a box of your design,

Why can't you see,
In this cage of rust,
Who can't you be,
When your world turns dust,

Still, you stay there,
Still, you see it,
Yet you wonder where,
In this life,

Passing and fading,
You frown as it moves on by,
Calm and sedating,
Your beginning to wonder why,

Walls fall down,
When the crows cry,
And the king has lost his crown,
Then truth begins to die,

Now you wonder,
In the field of debris,
If this were a fateful blunder,
Or an act to be set free,

Though, amidst loss,
Memories alone beside you,
Are alone to guide you,
Had it been better,

Living, living in a box of your design,
It was quiet and nice,
Yes, and you'd paid the price,
Living, living in a box of your design.