The ebbing tides and breezes bend
Beneath the transitory skies,
I wonder where these waters end...


And in the mystery they lend
Embracing winds' and waters' tie
The shifting tides and breezes bend


Ever-changing seasons send
A rush of ardor past my eyes,
And beauties over waters' end


Patterns of my life now blend,
Retreating from repeating lies
Which the flowing zephyrs bend


Elements of hope defend
The grace with which the heavens cry
Mourning not the summer's end


Despite persistent twists and bends,
Horizons cannot ever end.

Despite my imaginative nature,
I always favor reality over fantasy
I prefer a world where roses aren’t merely red
And violets aren’t blue-
-no, seriously, blue?
They’re violet.
It’s in the ******* name.
Violet.
I don’t understand the tendency to portray reality unrealistically
Why sell it up?
Why try to improve it?
Call me cliché, but isn’t the world perfect
Because of its imperfections?
Just look at the sky.
Like, right now. Look up.
It’s nice, isn’t it?
It’s always nice, too, that’s the thing.
When it’s spot-free, clean and devoid of blemish
Or even when it puts on its display of thickly-caked cloud-cover-up and rich, crimson blush
And you don’t need to see it through a rose-tinted screen.
There aren’t little panels projecting it in enhanced quality
It doesn’t fear criticism,
It’s real.
There isn’t a system in place
Perpetuating some marketplace incredulity that the sky-
-that same sky that’s there all the time,
In all time zones,
Commercial-free,  
Every day from dawn to  noon to dusk-
Is any soup-of-the-season trademark
I mean, c’mon, enhanced quality?
How do you quantify that anyway?
And while I’m the one on the stand
Why should I present my case any differently?
Why does perspective shift imply a change in wordplay?
I have a legitimate concern, from me to you
I fail to see why I should express it any differently
I want to talk to you.
I don’t want to impress you.
I want you to listen.
A simply spoken truth can be more poignant than an intricate lie.
‘Cause after all,
Wrap a lie up any way you like,
Define it with any hip terminology you like,
It’s still a ******’ lie.

What is the century but an ill-conceived plan,
or a reservoir of hallucinations?
Man's blood and sweat alike fill the chasm
and Man will continue to drink
Lust surveys those who hunger,
and Time accounts for those in transit
The fountain will never cease its flow
Until man has been sated
He will sell a lifetime of toil
To be rewarded with more thirst
What is his time but an overvalued commodity,
or an elaborate hallucination?
His blood will turn
to ashes in his veins
His sweat will turn
to needles on his brow
His tears will turn
to dust upon his cheek
His thirst will never cease
Until he refuses to drink

It is the nature of the well
To help Man enslave himself

I've heard it told all things must pass
Our days profound, yet, fragile still,
Are trapped within a tender glass


Though sands so ardorously mass
And like the tears of Chronus spill,
Good times must all, one day, drift pass


Though ever-fervently amassed,
Howe'er meticulously filled,
We're bound by that same hour-glass


It's never reverent, never crass,
It's bound by neither good nor ill,
Resolved instead to see us pass


Its master's bound within its grasp
For none can flee its solemn will
As Saturn, too, is cased in glass


We fear to see our sands fly fast
And falling faster, bid them still,
Though in our hands they quickly pass


But neither future, present, past
Can work to find this truth distilled:
It's in our hands to turn the glass


Life's a drink, though quickly passed,
I think I'll pour another glass.

With the tide, I traced the sands that danced in front of me
Their light compelled my eyes to look beyond forever's shore
Aware enough to leave the beach, I ventured out towards the sea

The waves embraced my longing arms and quelled my fevered plea
Though the clouds that o'er me loomed struck thunder through my core
I learned to trust the water's hold, I knew it cared for me

Through rain, through roiling wave and squall I faced my destiny
All lives I might I have lived I knew were left for me no more
All worlds once drawn in sands of youth were swallowed by the sea

Once-familiar tides rolled over footprints left in glee
Memories of bliss erased like years gone long before
But now replaced with new horizons sprawled in front of me

The world that lay across the water's edge was where I longed to be
I watched the storm clouds dissipate as new knowledge now implored
My fear of swimming kept me from my need to fare the sea

From the tides I left the sand that nearly buried me
Awake enough to brave the storm, I found my place amid the sea

The air in the room is cold
metallic chills
sere and frigid as the man,
wearing a skin-tight grey shirt,
might imagine them
he is #83
He counts the chairs
96
He closes his eyes
Colors dissipate,
Leaving him with the chattering of nervous lovers
the shrieks of restless children
he shudders
focuses on his breathing
82 leylines run through him
they fly headfirst into,
and thus depart, the room
his axis radiates
82 stories leading to him and beyond him
lines blur
voices fade
he hears the music of the universe:
silence
he sees the window of reality:
void
his vision rises as his body disappears
HE is gone
there IS nothing
the room is nowhere
breath decays, there is no air
words remit, there is no breath
past and future intertwine
oblivion begets presence
and he sees possibility
he becomes infinite faces
endless stories
an avatar of inclinations
a choir of notions
penumbra to umbra,
from naught to dusk,
from day to dream,
into the river that flows within everything,
he dissolves
there IS nothing
and in nothing, there is peace

"#83!"

I open my eyes.
The air in the room is cold.
My shirt is too tight.
There are 90-something chairs,
82 people,
and I am awake.

Beneath my feet

There is no ground

I look above

There is no sky

An endless plane of light and dream

Stretches out in all directions

My eyes could not begin to speak

The visions that my mind creates

Luminescent, you're beside me

Effervescent, you inspire

Orchestratic notes' creation

Sing throughout your radiant mind

Your hand clasps mine,

and bold horizons fill my view

Words and phrases have no place here

Flowing from our lucid souls,

Our dreams will ebb and birth the tides

A storm this void has never seen

Will rise from out our lungs

A single sigh that left your lips

Would cause this place to quake

Mountains of an infant world

will rise and shape the land

With your blessing,

the first rose will bloom

and grow into a tree of life

From its mighty branch,

The first bird will spread his wings

Stars will fill the sky you paint

While valleys cleave the earth we sing

Our breath of life will call the gale

That lifts our dreams and spreads the seeds

of our domain

when you hold my hand,

all things are possible

you merely need to call the thought

the song of creation rests within you