The autumn sun slides low
against the hours,
peaking over the day
as if barely begun
and almost finished.
There is something familiar
here in the half light,
not quite vertical yet
bright enough to see
the path I ride is not as rough,
the wind is not as strong
and my heart is not as hard
nor encumbered
as days since passed
where in hind-sight
I peddled for sanctuary;
sanctuary from
a morbid kind of half-sight
held tight by a half-life of
loneliness and lies
now long lost
and finally made right.

You and I are not dead yet,
I think I know it,
I know you do.
I see you in the minutiae
of the stars.

its all the same
from way down here,
a grand perception, a vision
of you at sunset flickering
without your flame.

Your call to arms is
a boy cries wolf.
I mold you into art
from nuts and bolts.

In conflict
you catch my eye
and then you’re gone.
Your coming is inconsistent,
different colors, different shades,
you're more than one.

I cannot ascertain the
direction from which they come,
left or right, above, below, I don't know
I only know when they come
when all of them come

all of you

you are more than one when all of you come

all of you

I have come to believe
this world can never be understood,

but what of  clarity?      It's a joke,

and those who say they have it are delusional
while the rest of us are mystics and dreamers
round tripping through hell
the going much quicker
than the coming

My love for you is far beyond
the love that I have shown.
Its otherworldly, unexpected,
and when I die you will finally see
the all of it in many things.  
It will be with you, flourishing
in your everyday existence,
in little ways, in music, in flowers,
in sunsets,  in a wind chime,
in the sunshine,  in suffering,
in visions, in visits from the local ghosts
and Christ who knows your name,  
he'll never let you down,
through him you'll hear my voice,  
I will be with you in all of these things
and you will know my love in
a hundred ways.

Like a toothache its always there
that little bit of doubt that ***** with me.
I forget about it once in a while
on busy days, on days I spend fixing things
but on other days I can hardly breathe,
the weight of my existence oppressive,
the fear that letting go might overwhelm me
or you --or us --or create an awkward angle,
a weapon to wield in future wars.

I know you wonder where I go
and if I knew
I would have already shown you
instead I frown
to hide the fact that I am happy.

You are everything I’ve always wanted,
your vulnerability sincere
of course you know I’d never hurt you
but how can you tell
through the fog of my hiding?
You say you know me like no other,
you see behind my eyes,
you see my inner workings,
you hold my heart in your hands
and still I pretend to be in control,
invincible, invulnerable.
 
l rely on music too much to touch my soul
And I sense you sometimes wish you were
the music so you could touch my soul
but you already are and you already do.

I’d give you my soul but honestly
I’d rather you take it by force,
tie me down and **** me, but time
the great teacher tells you that
in that watershed moment
an awful lot could go wrong.
I want to promise you it would be fine
but I can’t. I want to give in and
let you overtake me passionately,
overrun me sexually, I can feel
the blood flow, I imagine your soft lips,
your eagerness, don’t ever let me
discourage that part of you.

But isn't it selfish that I would ask you to carry on at
the peak of the universe with one foot in heaven
and one foot in hell with no guarantees either way?

Like a spark to dynamite my fuse when lit might run
or walk, take its time, fizzle out, rush to finish
no one knows, least of all me.

You only want what is yours by right

I want you to want it as well