Magic requires that

you see exactly what's there:


real reality.

An automatic

door for everything that moves --


is closed still open.

the palette of the sky wanders
from crimson to dandelion
the waters dance by the shore
the wind sways the verdant
and hums with the breathing

it is a wondrous kiss of view
that comforts and cradles
something that we
always miss

that we are always desperate
to see, to feel
to breathe in, to keep
we click to capture it still
to yield a frame that moves
and holds life of infinite

i am filled with awe
every time i look at it,
it is heavenly—

yet we rather ruin her innate
comfort and cradling mount
to get pieces that are dull
and mundane

yet we prefer destroying
the green that shades
and shelters
to earn the green paper
so to use it later to savor
the serendipity only she can bear

How can you ask a man
Who loves you,
About the man you love?

If I was lesser than
I may play pretend and spin a thread
That pulls you closer to the center of my web.
         But,

My love is a field of a thousand faceless corpses.
Each one a time when I swallowed pride, and
Gave you my mouth
So you could smile wide.
          Little Lady,

Can you not see this calm bravado
Relies solely
On my never-blinking eyes.

For even a wink would have this city sink
Beneath
This grief I trap in ink.
You woke up and only met the sun today
          Because,

In the dead of night
I cupped your pain, and
Drank your inclement weather like bottled rain.

Everything is alive.
The spirit of life is endowed in every
Material and immaterial existence.
Life is an unstoppable force.
Life is contagious.
Life begets life and propagates
Ad infinitum.
Life is desire itself.
Every thing yearns to be alive
And every thing that is fading
Desperately reaches out for the suckle
Of that elusive, all-encompassing elixir.
Life is transient. It is delicate and strong.
It is a force itself which does not move Time
So much as imbue it with Meaning.
Life is tumultuous, unsteady, and capricious.
It wants to “go” in an atemporal sense.
It occupies the past, present, and future at once
But its movement is linear and certain.
It can splinter and halt.
Life is miraculous.
It implies the incomprehensible Divinity
Of Being. It is Absurd.
Life is defiant, stubborn, and strong-headed.
It can Be when no one is looking and in spite of
The skeptical spectator.
Every thing respires as one. Life is unity.
Life is paradox.
Life is

What if i just packed my bags and ran away,
never showed up through the light of day,
This life seems like a paradox we live throughout our own thoguhts,
this world, the touch, the love we see and feel, is it even all real?
One day when i lay through my flower bed,
am i in a matrix of never ending dreams, from horror and love to all things that seem real when i lay my head to sleep?
Dreams are recurring but so is this life, so tell me this now
are we in a dream when we open our eyes, or do we just dream when we close our eyes?
I want to feel love, no pain but pleasure,
I want to seek something more high of a real temptation to live in this world,
but when you're trapped with just your fantasied thoughts,
how can we truly know when to stop?

so last night i was kicking rocks at reality-
trying to flip the entire universe like a pancake
but the moon laughed at my fruitless toil
for the universe exists in paradox-
and in my night watch
i dug into the soil
and ended up on the shoulders
of our planet
watching
her inhabitants try to make sense
of imperceptible subjects
such as why
who has sealed
all things within her palms
to bar philosophers
who have made gods of reason
i dare to worship
existence-
to be smothered in the
beauty of what is
and is
with or without description.
and so i look inward to quest(ions)
which are themselves, answers-
as i am a universe.