Three roads once lay before my eyes,
Beneath the sweep of silent skies.
The first was wide—a golden lane,
Where countless walked to dodge all pain.

It rang with laughs, with joy and cheer,
A life designed to mask all fear.
With rules to follow, dreams pre-made,
Where comfort kept the truth delayed.

The second glowed, but few would tread,
Where thinkers dwelled and logic led.
They questioned deep, they reasoned well,
But stayed within a guarded shell.

They built their truths with thought and care,
Yet never leapt beyond the air.
For all they saw, they feared the cost
Of seeking more, or being lost.

The third was cloaked in breath of shade,
A road where light and meaning fade.
No stars above, no voice, no guide—
Just silence stretched on either side.

It seemed I stood with choice in hand,
But deep inside, I’d never stand.
The first road smiled with soft deceit—
A velvet lie beneath my feet.

It offered peace, a gentle chain,
With dreams that dulled the edge of pain.
But in that ease, my fire grew thin—
A quiet death beneath the skin.

The second shone with sharpened grace,
But held me bound in one still place.
A cage of mind, of bright control,
That fed the brain, but starved the soul.

They lit the dark, but feared to leap,
So clung to truths they chose to keep.
They stood so close to something true,
But feared what change would make them do.

The third—it bled, it bit, it burned,
And showed me truths I’d never learned.
Each breath was torn, each step left scar—
A trail that broke but led me far.

No cheers ahead, no lights behind,
Just hollow winds and thoughts unkind.
Yet in the silence, sharp and clear,
I felt a voice the brave don’t hear.

It warned, “This road will lead to none.
It breaks the soul, it leaves you done.”
But pain revealed what fear had masked—
And so I walked, no questions asked.

No end in sight, no promised land,
Just storms that tore through where I stand.
Yet through the wreckage, fierce and true,
The shattered path was pulling through.

So let me fade, without a sound—
No song, no stone, no hallowed ground.
Though I vanish, lost and gone,
I walked the path that led me on.

To speak out of turn, before the hour, allow me to welcome dear all that minded the call to witness truth, to sure the certain under law stand to see God in word of proverb to one reason all heared for greater good of all to one hope the house of just filled the endweek to open an act upon the best as far beauty of divine principle of kindness for brother soul to keep, new session to roles take heart to part in power entrusted to serve the hour of honor to do right by fellow we are in land we love of King we have art poetry and tells to love enemy and live flowerlike to be perfect. Before breaking the seal of the letter to cause, to keep in order be to praise our fathers gods as our tradition of one we kept of freedom practice and manifest and carry out in authority of our cross a thorn from a crown to Emanuel once again, as Sealers of right to humbled a brother's brother writ the word and kindest of power to grant Fathersons to granted have. In spirit as told be e'spected and 'cerned as the Kingdom always hearts to world be ever is for since, part from evil, allow the heart a rest, recognize the year, to bless. By the hammer to fall in love of fate what The truth and time in right of all the saved. To live and let die and sing in cora grato witt to the Collector of Gods at will of worth values the time and the date to the ship Daughter of Jerusalem, the first of the one we trust in and endure with and love to mother be where home.
Hear here. The seassion be! May the day be fair and more. Be most of man be god to measure the guilt compare to world have the higher order at heart and father foremost what lessons of merci to light a candle to beat the dark in kindness all living answers to, for question give, dont ask for life get to keep. Once learned to cry. Cry never again. Love like God in nine ways a year to star a map of ships to like a home keep way be sun and north to letter find marvel at the seal break, of all what accused a child of god poor in spirit the soul of forever to be, already dressed in white for god to sin is hell to water a field to hope for god and list before opened to dare a **** to who heared and written enough torn in half for heavens favore be kept in grace of what will or wont why. For God or devil what spoke of king the coin that two sides to lack to have to know a lion a child a man should if hour to art the minutes to second coming to wave a million stars i soul to be milion days to have hundred ways and folds and times to: Gods been generous to we, heared say for all are fed. And the coin flips and lands and magic cast a ward to love by heart a hundred fold a kiss the coin to land its fruit for whoever first all the sweet to sunny or rain to  ignorance at stake n'sider nevermore be knowles mind to nevertheless inthought might to deny, bite from a bliss what ignorance the laugh of joke never heared and a world to forget never knew a hundred dreams it dreamt to have had a book of blank pages to witness a miracle at will call symethry a rose to shape a heaven verse a hymn to rise and fall to glad to all what been too have to allow heart a rest of hearts it beats laughs to voice and dreams asleep times to wake to know better for other tree there by the taste of no word to tell of what have but to compare to be best a very long word to name a soul as worst a very long time to take from death to birth as many drops to rain to be the daily bread of all apple tree of knowing to knowing better for desert of different sort to bare in surreal if soul the tree of life god picked and songbirds taught to sing a child be fed of seethrough the of light golden dawn to palms of hands have drink of grapes the wine of what gods do and immortal the core of no other tree bares for sake of love of endless to be come death over took but death one too many to live and die in romance instead of heart of gold to bet a final beat to enough to beatitude a serenade and reaper smile for the moment if wouldnt be the last wouldnt be forever and wonderful of souls tree grew a branch, to be like them.. i was recognized to be too dear to loose way to won to second born have come to win over the world. To be. I am. For the house be just

a severed branch in smooth moonlight
adorned above an open gate—
does it lead out or in?
does kindness wait beyond the blind corner,
or something severe
lurking in silence
to devour your life?
something wild with eyes for the dark calls through the night.
an inkling that this night may be your last,
and you’ve already forgotten
the gentle light of the rising sun.
death teases the truth behind the illusion
but never gives up the ghost.
maybe not tonight, but someday—
it will come,
as unavoidable
as the waterfall is to the river.
but you are not the river.
you are the sky, my friend—
vast and open.
do not mistake yourself for your life,
which is but a reflection
on the river, briefly.
let it fall away, as all things must,
over the edge,
into the unknown,
into the mist.

He sat in stillness,
A holy book open in his hands —
Written in a language
That was not his own.
He read aloud,
Line by line,
His voice calm,
But his soul untouched.

I entered quietly,
Watched for a moment.
Then, without a word,
I reached for the jug —
Empty.
Lifted the glass —
Also empty.
I poured.
Then raised it to my lips
And drank slowly,
Eyes half-closed,
As if it were the best water in the world.

I set the glass down,
Satisfied.
A soft smile on my face.
He looked at me, confused.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“There was no water in that jug,
No drop in that glass.
Yet you drink like a thirsty man
Who’s found heaven!”
I turned to him, gently,
Still smiling.

“Sir,” I said,
“I learned from you.
You read words you do not understand,
And find peace in the sound.
I drank from what was empty,
And found joy in the act. If I am a fool,
Then what shall I call you?"

His words twisted the corners
so right curved into left,
and truth bent sideways,
making me believe
I was going the wrong way.
Hedgerows grew tall,
and thick with argument,
until they swallowed the gas lampposts,
turning pathways into shadows.
I walked blind and barefoot
through the thick of it,
earth damp, worn thin as my breath.
Was I supposed to find the center?
Was there ever an exit?
There was no map,
just whispers in the leaves,
and his voice,
ringing in my ears,
a compass spinning
from asking too many questions,
and doubt,
folded into my own pocket.
My soul became blistered
from chasing after ghosts of
wanted apologies,
so I kissed the ivy,
hoping the walls would soften.
but they spiraled,
a boa constrictor handcuffing my legs.
I took a sharp turn,
desperate,
crawling on my belly,
a soldier avoiding fire,
fingertips clawing into the red clay,
and found the center,
where a red lip-sticked mirror stood,
half cracked, words still whole:
"you're not the one who's lost"