Love                                  is                      
wr­itten                    in                    stone
       which                                slowly
             fades                          to
                   sand                   ..                                          
                    ­     ..                 ..
                             . . . . . . .
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                                . . . .
                                  . .
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I see the trees turning
I see the topography of the old man's face,
With rifts and cracks
With gold and iron
Still in the old hills

The rolling of the planet wears everything out,
But its rotation scatters the shards of eden
They gleam like the eyes of a sad, old face.

Freeze and thaw,
Freeze and thaw,
Like god squeezing a stress ball.

Glinting ore shines on the skin of my arm
I'm squeezing a stress ball
Trying to find
A way to get the deepest taste of eden
With rifts and cracks
With rifts and cracks
In my jaw and spine

I lay awake
Cry for their sake
But not on the outside
My tears flow
From the inside
Numb thoughts fill my mind
As I wonder why
Why I cry
When I know
The worst day is behind

morning cup brewing
popping bacon in mom's pan
golden grits stewing
flipping through dad's Sunday rag
saying grace for all I've had

Its been a while since I held my pen and wrote
It was a very difficult, long bumpy road
Nothing seems to matter anymore
Its a never ending cycle oh I’m sure
And the lie I keep telling my self
“Tomorrow is a better day”?
Oh what a waste of time when everything is gray.

Watching celestial
syzygy
drinking my glass of lilt
Coins in my pocket
Still feeling innocent

We planted seeds today
Pulps filled with different ridges dusted with the earth's breath,
were planted.

Each earthy fetus protected by the palms of their alpha tripped off their fingertips and glided their way into the dimension that lies under our feet.
A dimension where our ancestors whisper in sacred tongues and where the other half of our trees play in the mud.

This, is where our spirits are born.
This, is where your training begins
little one
earthy one
mystic one
This, is where you begin.

Where the trees' veins inquisitively tap on your shell
poke at your lifeless liveliness
Where the ancestors rattle your cage with their hums
Guiding you to taste your own rhythm

This, is where your spirit buds.
...
We planted seeds today.

The pulps resting in the dimension below your skin,
below your heart.
A dimension where your thoughts gossip and where your ancestors sleep.

This, is where IT begins
This, is where it breathes
where it sees
gracious one
fleshy one
cosmic one
This, is where we bleed.

...

We planted seeds today.
We, planted OUR seeds today
OUR seeds were planted today
we...
WE, were planted...
Today.