I have always been a shadow tower

With arms of bended steel

Love me, hate me

Do with me your opinion what will

But never will I change as this

Or let my shadows lack therein

The will to see it though and thru

And deliver it with a furious will

You know half of the worries
More than that…
ALL of the worries inside your head
Are entirely your own
And therefor are in need of one thing
OWNERSHIP if you please
For it would please you more than such constant worry
To be free of such things

The discovery of true words
Is but one of the many mysteries we seek
Both under stones and under moon
And in the volumes of our histories, we find
That no two words were ever successfully left alone
No sentence of the mind was ever so perfect as to be
The word of God without inspiration
No, mere mortal words I find to be
The loneliest of lonely things
But true words are of a great ideal
And ideals are often shrouded in such mysteries
And THIS … Is where you may laugh at me

(:

As the wind whips through the valley, so do these thoughts breeze through my mind.

Suddenly.
Occasionally.
Coolly.

Contemplating you and then some, other someone, some other time.

Steadfast and true as are the rooted trees of are.

Not ours mind you.

Though the wind itself is never so consciously on my mind.

You are.
At times.
On mine.

You always remember the last time
Iconicized within your mind

Think back to when it was actually then
And you'll find it out over and over again

Like a slowing dance
With contented sigh
You can hear the fond memories rolling by
At a gradual pace

Be it in truth to pass
Or in feelings which last

There is the feeling of first
And the memory of last

With a rain like this
That would never stop
I'd wish it not over
Again and again
That way I wouldn't have to face the sunshine
Let alone call it mine
When this need for a new life of mine
Must begin

Adjust your glasses
Ever slight
The way your shoulder turns a corner
Such a beautiful pattern, not in shirt
But within your features glowing bright  
Expressive as the newborn day
Collected as the cooling night
Adjust your glasses once again
A habitual study within sight

I've been having this dream
These visions of lovers in each others arms
One always looking down lovingly on the other

Wrapped up in a world known only to them
To escape the old days which are fading away
Looking outwardly in

Some of which, are located at the place where old memories begin
But only one side can see
The exact detail of such fond memories

For to sleep in the arms of another companion
Is to forget that they
May have been wide awake

And to hold with these
Be it both sets of arms
Two lovers it takes from each in part

Beauty in a subway station
Is often called
A crime

But contained within
Such an cavernas system
No right to move
Or way to judge
The intricacies of the human mind

It's what we do
And even why
Bend as we will
Be it by purpose
Or abandoned principal

Design
In design we stand
Still

Does quality know that it's quality?

Does a thoroughbred know it's a winner?

Do the chance-less still stand, for a chance at all?

Can the redeemed ever not know their redeemer?

Though you cast all your peals before swine, do they care?

Will we think fore we trample our friends?

Can you count all the birds in the bushes as if caged?

Just as man counts the days till the end?