From the edges of enchanted brilliance, you enter even brighter shining in your glory, instantly I am drawn to your kindred spirit and I am at home once again.

My already calm being is even calmer bathed in your energy, we have lived a thousand lives, yet I am attracted magnetically to your complete soul essence.

Like a moth to a flame, attempting to avoid the pain and dancing with the danger that for so many reasons is wrong, but feels right. Souls know no boundaries.

Living in the material plane conditioned by culture and society's conventions invokes limitations, which in turn focus on surmountable challenges.

Yet I have a quiet happiness and a joyous & peaceful serenity within,  where sometimes confusion looms, but love still grows and rises to support you.

Just like rain drops
my tears fall
watering seeds sown
from my past.
Before too long
they will flower
into wonderful opportunities,
stunning all those who see,
never knowing the damaged roots that lay underneath.
For you see the colourful bloom reached for the sun,
Illuminating the world in a sea of colour,
ready to take on life's next adventure.
Just like rain drops
my tears fell
watering seeds sown
ready to bloom into wonderment.

In a realm of two moons and three suns not
afraid to be besieged by everlasting brightness,
where everyone speaks from their heart spires
and devils and scorpions cavort with sprites,
magic coexisted with every day miracles.
People would cross on invisible bridges
as easily as Jesus walking on water,
on their way to their great soul’s quest.

Now as tablets led to handwriting and
then to thousands of computer fonts,
where seeking adventure becomes
short code for finding death and despair,
where sprites now dine on pixie sticks
and fairies no longer spread their dust,
where those who believe in magic are greatly
outnumbered by those who don’t,
where everyone’s top half exists
with their bottom self wandering about
and never finding each other,
where wizardry is replaced with technology-  
the common light bulb and automobile-
is when wonderment gets consigned to the
bottomless pit of foolishness.

Then magic waits in hidden castles,
patient not for those who have it
and don’t see it, but those who need
it the most and know that it reveals
the truth behind the disguises,
waiting for that old broken stead
to reveal that its Pegasus
and that spell they chanted
to lead them back home to
the magic of their parent’s’ embrace.

Just a short New Year's Wish
Raise a glass and toast the year
Think back now and debate
Another week and it's dusted and done
Goodbye to old two oh one eight

Regardless how it started
And what happened through the year
Celebrate that you're here at the end
And raise a nice cold glass of beer

The Mayans missed about the end of life
And now we've another year to go
A new adventure that will be twelve months long
What it brings, I'm sure that no one knows

So, raise a glass to the end of another long year
And get set to step out once again
I wish you could all have the best year of all
and then multiply all that by ten

Two Oh One Nine could be a year of wonderment
A year that all your dreams come true
It's not predetermined or up in the stars
What you get is all now up to you

So, raise a glass and celebrate that you're still here
And start the New Year off with a smile
A toast to the past and one to what's to come
And let's make it the best year by a mile

And in this morning
ice-baked skies
that I be drawn to the
glass-cold window
was a pleasant
albeit utter surprise
To see -- I did!
Across the way
beyond the oak
between the frost
and misty cloak
the Monarch
who flittered by!
The grand vision
-- crystal snow
drifting flakes
against noble color

such a butterfly!

Heaven, can't you get enough?
Marble orchards dedicated to
your sustenance. Your creation.
Love and mourning meant to be enough.
For us.
When do you have your fill?

Of course, you're abstract.
Not gluttonous; you haven't
the odd ends of humanity.
You stretch and warp and fill to a non-brim.
Forever.
That is comfort to some others.

Thank you for getting us to where we are now.
To feed our narcissism in washing our hands of you.
Who created whom?
Which came first, the despair or the divine?