Would you slip into my skin and spend the night? And after that, slow dance in front of a bigoted populace that seeks uniformity in the minds of us happy few? Would you mind if I carried you away from our performance and showed you a special kind of spirituality? The kind that guides and intensifies beauty but is considered evil and immoral to those who never seem to understand us. Those who comfort to and rot in subjective complexity, cognitive normality and traditional toxicity, manifested by history and old, yet matured minds. My lord, would you mind if I showed you a world you might hate less? Long enough for me to create you a world that you will love more. For you see, I owe you nothing but love and happiness. For you have shown me nothing less of that.
I say to you, my dear. The sky seems darker, when you turn away. Grains of sand seem to be less tempting to count, when you turn away. The light in my eyes die out, when you turn away. The smoke from a pleasant, yet random gentleman's cigarette and the bottle filled with blood red wine belonging to a wise, yet mysterious lady calls to me, when you turn away. The objectiveness of morality seems pointless, when you turn away. The soft words of your soul seem lost in translation. Your plea for peace sounds absurd. My selfishness seems rational. Your cries for me to change are lost in void. The meaning of your love becomes a forgotten proverb - when you turn away. For your attention gives meaning and your beauty is an inspiring art; the magnum opus I shan't live without.
Can you hear a falling leaf? As it twirls and dances in the wind On its slow descent. Turning, moving, swaying. Does it sound like tinkling music?
The water that awaited the end of its crescendo pushes out in perfect spherical ripples. Underneath the bright orange leaf That sings the end of its journey Destination reached. Sweet relief.
And now it floats along the slowly moving river. Can you hear the water moving? It’s as clear as the ethereal beings That haunt us through our lives. Smooth rocks and pebbles underneath Paint a canvas of perfect calmness. Greys and browns and whites.
Branches from the trees that used To hold that darling leaf lean over. As if trying to touch fingertips to the river To test the water’s temperature So as not to make their child uncomfortable.
And as you look toward the distance You can just barely make out That sweet, wonderful leaf… With its tinkling music… Fall over the waterfall.