There's a seat right smack-dab in your mind,

A seat that's not that hard to find,

Where passion and grace, find a meeting place and love is eclipsing of time,

When asked how, I say now,

Cause its not when or then,

And I feel like that's blowing your mind?

Early morning
Rise and shine
There’s no more waiting
Nows the time

You’ve come this far
Don’t turn back now
Take a breath
You know just how

The signs have told you
The time is near
The world is yours
So listen clear

The words you speak
You’ll speak them loud
For the voice you have
Must be endowed

I was once your world
Now just an afterthought
We planned our future
Now you've forgotten our past
We dreamed together
Now a nightmare apart
I loved you then
I still love you now

What is strange, after all
was said,
and done,

the story seemed
forgotten
and

no one idea remained alone, as an if,
a
possibility,
never even imagined, one,
which alone made
each
hap or happenible, imaginable as an aspect of reality
appear to
happen, in your reality,
now,
and this
happened to be, one possibility,
wit' me
and you In it. it
seems
we can't

discern a granular differing christalization,
for, we know, it
looks like one of us loosed the grip on knowing,
realizability, actual-al-ity, virtually,
for sure,
at eye level.
See
qubic zirconium looks like diamond,
to naked eyes,
in certain light;
and magic seems scientif, with at least
six spin opt-in on the
referendum
passed for truth to exist in California…

Prop. 13 covered us, property tax wise,
so this reality looks
as if it worked,
see,
the effort to not die, remember?

Life goes on.

This is all we got to make the best of.
Your guess, as good as mine, I bet,
it's worth breathing
again;

but don't **** me, if I'm wrong,
joke,
no worry.
I never was,
under
those circumstances, you are crazy.
Not me. Breathe.

rhyming is hard
who do you think I am,
a bard?

i try my best,
but i fail the test
of being funny
or rhyming, buddy

I don't know
  
i eat the food of the soft and hard work
no time is left for a god to appear
cross the river and find a path that's worth
a life of effort all live with the fear

of not existing in the mind of self
and what we call god is a band aid that
is better than nothing as we bleed out
our life upon a tabula raza

which is true yet malleable so now
we walk and talk the walking dead maybe
not a word is true that's thought softly in
a moment of real yell's and we follow

as slaves to the inner tune unheard that
can be peaceful if we try i don't know