You can't imagine
How glad I am
For every single meter
Walked with you

And

You won't be able to imagine
How I feel sorry
That
Early or late
Our
Paths
Will be divided...

Not one person in this lonely world
Walks on some singular path alone
But every once in a horrible while
There are those that come up and push you along

Here is a toast
To those that boast
And say they wish you well
When all along
They sing some song
And march you straight to hell

May they rot and grow crazed
In their shallow graves
For what they did in life
And know that sin
Is what fills the graves in
Even if they don’t remember it right

That I may understand every good path
That wisdom may reside in my heart
That knowledge and discretion may be my guard
This is my prayer to you, my guide and my God

I’ve always felt like I was looking for something impossible to find.
Searching for something or someone to fill this imaginary void, this emptiness left behind by fleeting lovers in the night.

So many times I’d thought I’d found it;
In a strangers touch , or a temporary moment of passion between bedsheets, naked bodies intertwined warm and present.
But that was never it, it could never be that simple.

It wasn’t a void that could just be filled by a attractive stranger
No matter how sweet his words or gentle his touch.
All that meant nothing.
I know that now.

I know that because I know that it’s you.
It’s always been you, of course it has.
Everyone else was just...just a pause button on us, a momentary plot twist, a what if moment.

Like one of those beautiful picture pages in a storybook,
Pleasing to the eye but all I wanted was to get to the next chapter, the next part of our story.

It was right there in front of me ,
black and white on the page but still I couldn’t see it.
But as I lay here listening to the whispers of the stars in the darkness, nothing could be more clear.

Every path I took, every turn in every road
Every current in the ocean lead me back to you.

i am the moon
you are the sun
crossing paths
but always fading away

On the side of the path where overhead
treetops meet to tickle
each other, the roots
from two trees are knotted
together.

Meet me by that knot.
Kiss me like you said
you would.

Each line,
each sound enters a secret combination and swings wide a door of opportunity to me who follows
And as it appoaches it's close, the line turns and holds open that door, just for a few moments, before moving on,
and if you're quick enough, if you time it right, you who follow can take the weight without the skill needed to open it, and so you say your thanks
and then you too can pause as you look back and pass the weight , the opportunity onto a someone who follows on.

And so we follow, on to the turn of the next words of revelation,
timing and attention crucial to maintaining the flow of opportunity
until every now and then a mis-step necessitates a stretch, a reach and catch of the door, giving effort to reverse the swing and maintaining the offering of access
and in return we might receive a thank you from they who follow us.
And smiling, we follow on.