what if you are not
the only one
waiting
for
love?

what if your
soulmate
has been
destined
with the
same
wait?

will you consider
the possibility
of this
what if?

If you ever find yourself laying in bed,
With the lights down,
Unable to fall asleep,
Close your eyes...

Follow the abstract nature of the world you seek,
When you walk through the hallways of your eyes,
Infinity seems like a good possibility.

I am a plant.
I am a thistle.
                   Cirsium arvense.
                           Creeping thistle.
When you first see me I am a beautiful, colourful flower. But if you come closer, you will notice two things.
1. I can ***** you. My needles are few and nearly invisible, but very sharp.
2. I am not ONE flower. I am a cluster of a hundred tiny flowers.
            I am possibility.


My opportunities were not the best when I was a seedling.
                The ground was dry and the sun burning.
However, as the forest around me, the sunlight that hit me directly lessened. The rain made the ground more fertile.

The ground is still too dry. I need more moisture to live. It is difficult to see the sun at all through the dense trees.  I wish I could at least see a little bit of the sun.

I am a plant.
I am a thistle.

Open and Shut
Open and Shut

Shut

Binary yesterday

Re-set

Today

The network is pregnant again

Open and Shut
Open and Shut

Open

Walk with me beyond the sunset
and let's sip the sweet ferment of the day,
the pungent lung nectar of Summer's first night.
In her beautiful darkness the world contracts
and expands like June fireworks, heard unseen
behind the measureless shadow trees.
Walk with me here while time rests his tread
leaving the sky to stars and dreams.

Life has always been about the decaying permutation of possibility.

When you are young, the infinite paths sing with endless potentials.

These branches are primed with the indifferent hands of time.

Choice still exist, as it always has, yet the narrowing is haunting.

It is that inevitability is that hangs around in ominous fog.

Approaching that finality is a journey of bittersweet grace.

The meadows of his visage,
soil cracking with age,
all it takes is her thought
and the meadows
cease to rot.

Each one in his dream's domicile,
tears racing down their eyes,
for the day may not be far
down the aisle,
when the prolonging dreams
and the reality blend,
and so do they, in the end.

It isn't a certainty,
but a man can hope can't he?
hope made it viable,
he made past the ordeal,
now it comes to a close,
it is but human to think
a reunion is undeniable.