Like the arcane of the worlds
You were mysterious and captivating
Magic yearning to be explored, to be captured
I stayed to study and observe all of your essence 
Weaving signs and symbols that my eyes memorized
Speaking ancient words of forgotten love
That only my heart can understand
The source of all of that is unknown and magical
Created between us 
Enchanting what was already enchanted
Ensnaring what was already ensnared
The art of invoking stars and wonders
Existed long within your eyes
That hexed me, held me
You cast what you desired
But you didn't know
I was already yours
You never needed the universe's secrets
To achieve what we both wanted 
Go ahead and perform the occult
But you were too late
The love was there inside
Before you even touched a book
You didn't need an ingredient or secrecy
For this familiar that you summoned
To be forever yours

God himself is his best creation,
A delusion so sublime,
It's comfort in pain,
Deemed as a symphony of insane.

I write to be free,
flows right out of me;
when Inspired to write;
It comes rapidly.

My mind steady ponders,
A world full of wonders,
encouraged to Inspire, as
I ever so desire.

My pen steady moving, and
minds steady grooving,
it's as easy as walking,
let my pen do the talking.


B.R.
01/12/2023

I will love you when winters are old and summers are tired;
I will love you between all hours;
For my mind only wonders with you and what can I say about the heart, it’s fallen too.

i am the dog that
sees and wonders to the end
and writes it all down

I listen to your heart
Beat in rhythm to the rain
Pouring out somber melodies.
The world drapes silent,
Where your eyes sing
Meteor shower wonders.
Sometimes,
It feels too much to grasp,
Tied to an endless
Invisible string around my palm.

There are certainly people
living in fantastic cities
there, behind the mountains

Houses piled up
towers sevenfold
in the river, unworldly

rich with gold
which even upstream
silts upon the stones

where butterflies find flower pots
block after block, and leaves
for the caterpillars, their colours

a wonderful pattern
a familiar mystery
which the oracle does not explain

It is everywhere
if ever it should be lost
in the city of floods

and subsiding quays, which
in their collapse, can take none
of the wonders

the wonder of spring
nothing but an empty mind
truly deeply is