I might search for the horseman's healer
He appears when the need is greatest
I lack nothing in the world surrounding... But I lack myself

I gave everything I could think to give, a future's full of expectation and a few random suggestions
I lack no bit of imagination... But I lack myself

I fill a home for her to return, it's not your everyday stray cat situation
I lack no meaningful level of comfort... But I lack myself

I clearly articulated three descending metaphors and the healer is yet to show
I lack nothing more than you, dear reader... But I lack myself

the wonder we witness when water pours
over the head and into the soul
we seek the holy and purest of joys
the youth of wisdom the ages of fools
stand and witness the cleansing refrain
wash over our eyes and into the heart
the rush of spring distilled into liquid
where form and fullness awaken the day

Layers, lifted veiled or gifted, I abide the climbing frame
Greyer, jilted hope is stilted, by and by a rhyming came
Player, plenty a pen/a penny, all the riches richly choose
Mayor, mention golden pension, sit alone and saintly lose

Ladder, leading homely pleading, up and down and back again
Fatter, fated over waited, on the table glass of gin
Gladder, giver heart a liver, all inside for outer sheen
Patter, pity light the city, gritty ****** call it clean

Cover, clotted twicely blotted, white-out for a paper new
Lover, linger point the finger, saying them and meaning you
Hover, heated mother pleaded, visit just for one more day
Subtle, suited aptly rooted, unassuming still the change

Subtlety was not his strong suit
So he strutted naked into battle...

We mourned him for a day or two,
Until the news gave us something less difficult to process.

With voices crowding and noise you may sit alone
allow the stillness to creep in through the halls and corridors of an almost never present awareness.

Here there is little more to consider
Feel time
Perceive space...
but know nothing,
only to find that this is the fullness of every man.

A stream and pool, a gentle rain,
The smell of soaking wooded dirt
The feel of slowly cooling air in misty Summer as the gravel crunches beneath the weight of all the hopes and dreams of right now.
A distant call to wonder, a closer call to wander and a hill that hides a long walk back before the night claims victory
Mossy ponds, trails crossing trails and barbed wire blockades that shield from neighborly attack
The low call of bullfrogs and the bickering of birds, all dazzeling and swirling into a great sky of lightly dripping treetops

This beautful force of green and brown and rust and blue and quiet stillness and nature's obedience is everything that will ever matter as far as anyone can tell.

So set to say string up and sway
Surrender, sweet surrender
Tripping, timid teasing in it
Tender, oh so tender
For first forgetting flicker fretting
Forever ever neverender