not every of note
must be perfect.
because where my
eyes distinguish, they
see only of your journey of grace.
your songs play like melodies
to the heart, a whole new meaning
of what's to die for.

golden butterflies
flutter in whimsical waylays
lighting the stars and the stellaris.

a white yellow mesh
of brilliant brushes
and healing discussions.

to be happy in the darkness
is to cling to love as
tightly as one can.

in the brisk of winter's
black silent nights,
I couldn't tell if you were the snow or the stars.

"let me be your king
among slaves."
"all I will gift would have
been free from me.
every downtrod
I will take
in favor of every of your own
development I so wish to build."
But watch what you do of him,
for our sake,
he is not playing to win,
and we felt him leave too.

the season of forgiveness
is like the cold bite of snow
that now slides down your
stinging smiling face.

i can't find all the words
     to tell you how much I love you.
i can't find all the words
     to apologize how much I hurt you.
i can't find all the words
     to say goodbye to the love that last forever.

yet i say; nonetheless- and forgive the attempt in its fruition.

the metal casket.
a machine pyre.
the ceremonial sky imparting smoke
pushed upward with each and every
of deep gray plume where they screened
into the brilliant white channeling clouds.