Now I know
How betrayal feels
To be burned
By your very source of light

Beyond your reflection
lies a wonderland
of psyche
....
here come closer
want a peek?
*locks eyes

We all blossom together,
             even though our fragrance
                                             is different.

Individually were are all from the same soil,
                                  breathing the same air.
Though we may grow differently,


                             we are all from the same source.

So many vacancies.
Vapid halls and streets.
No air. No hearts.
Vacant lands and souls.
Be a hand.
Be a thread.
Be a source.
Be love.
Be the patience.
The light . . .
     the empty chair.
Where you can invite someone to sit
Spend time.
Where each other can
fill up the world again.
Willingly wise, adopting time.
Fractures will fade
Patches of hope emerge
Color of
Grass
will grow again.
Sweet fragrant spring grass.
Practicing progress
For each season
A seat for everyone.

how do you know

you know imagining right, as in al
right, this whole idea
ain't re
alizable in the time we have?

I cain't imagine alla that, y'say.

All unbelievable things are and
all unimaginable things are not;

imagine a bubble in which we all be able
to unbelieve the unbelievable
and imagine unimagining it ever believed.

true. free be. you. not me, thee
unimaginable, like next from now.

thy will be done. No joke.
Make it up, it's your life, henceforth.

---
as I wrote that line three crows sailed o'er me.
In significant, unless you saw some three
of the raven ilk and added meaning to what ya saw,

from a source whence only you may draw.
As from thine own cistern, running water
from thine own well,
thine own secret spring of worth.