Paralysis
Crippled
By fear
Or anxiety
Depression
Like the gaze of a basilisk
Sinking
Unable to swim
All the lifeguards look like sharks
Manage to struggle in the currents
Further and further
Swimming
Away from the shore
On purpose
People can tell you you're Superman
But when you are your own kryptonite
Why even try to swim
Being crippled
By the basilisk
Its grasp never loosens

So you hate the rain?
Yet you live in Washington?
You might wanna move

So many people
They all claim to be living
They just wait to die

The pale moonlight manages a faint glow on the coarse sand
The waves crash onto the shore, hoping to gather all the sand it touched
Shedding light as she passes, the Moon strides onward
The waves crash louder but their beckoning is never heard

She keeps moving towards the horizon with no plans to rest
The Tide keeps chasing, calling; she ignores their behest
She is and always will be bound to the sky
The waves can never have her, they still wonder why

The waves race to try and match her stride
The Tide cries out in the night
"Can't you see my struggle? Can't you hear my plight?"
"I jump as high as I can just to be in your light"

The Moon continues roving the sky without a reply
For such a nomad as her, she never wanders far
And so the waves will chase and so the waves will crash
For them the Moon's beauty, will surely never be marred

Black and White silence
Black and White rain
Cleanse away the colors
And all that they contain
No Green on the trees
The branches cast their Black shadows
And the Black Ravens' toil in the umbrage
No Red or Orange fires burning
Only the White smoke flowing through the air
White light from the Sun dries up all the water
All the Blue water
There is no present or future anymore
Only the past is still here
The Black and White past
Like all the old movies and pictures
Because the rain has washed away all the colors
And I'm fine with feeling gray

A flourishing field of flowers strides across the teeming landscape
Weaving wind currents disperse fallen leaves; birds soar above the bellowing howls of Zephyr
The meadow is illuminated identical to the shining stars seen overhead
Such a place as this can’t be described merely in words

To understand the field, one must hear its echoing melody
Can you hear its blissful humming in the crisp night air?
Can you hear the birds serenading every dawn? Can you hear them whistling lullabies every dusk?
Can you hear Gaia’s song? So splendid, you not only hear it but can taste its saccharine stanzas?

To know the field, one must feel its warmth and bask in its radiance
Can you feel the firm grasp of the Sun's rays? Can you tell it won’t ever let go of you? Do you care?
Can you feel the field’s invigorating warmth enticing you?
Can you feel it take away your gloomy desolation? Can you feel it take away your stress and doubts?

To appreciate the field, one must see its abundant life
Can you see the trees growing in peace as they amass their armies yet carry no animosity and strife?
Can you see the pure, unpolluted streams that flow forever as if in a perpetual race against Father Time?
Can you see the Nightingale in her tree composing? Can you see the other as he anticipates her words?

To fathom the field’s perfection you must find it yourself. “Where is this field? Someone must know”
It’s in a place that must be found on your own. There’s only one place where it could begin to grow
The field lies where anyone can find it but it’s also a place where many will never find its mark
The paradise you seek can only be found deep in your heart, after you let Love cultivate the Dark