Always in all ways,
and yet, past Noontime,
the end begins again.
Nothing feels the same
as a fairy
and I dream what I am.
The Moon is not alone;
one star, more than two,
beyond the Ocean of the sea,
one, two, three, stars that I see.

Oooh… Phew!

One and 1 are indeed different
from each other, right?

One is a word, and the other is a number.

Yet, when I am not visible, no one sees that I exist separately.

I am here to be,
her shadow,
hidden, in a widow.
Her dark in death,
mysterious,
fallen into star.
A pastlife scar,
you,
my beautiful wife,
thats who you are.

Through my thoughts,
floating... away from everyone,
where no one can disturb,
lives my soul that God will guard.
That which makes me myself,
forever loved in my heart.

A voice telling me to hold it tight,
In a sound of words that split the night.
Emotions rise, part of the scar,
An image... like a falling star.
Even when no one comes, I know,
It will be like Mum's.

I want to be young, to be many. I want to surround the audience, the rest of mine, the overloaded inside my empty hollow. The fear is shallow, hollowed out in being. When I let go of my sadness for them all, more becomes less. And when time feels carved, my sorrow is open as I tremble. When I surrender in grieve toward. Even one and two are three, if one of the two is not alone, it still has more to go. Life is shown in the leaves, the **** grows on the trees... curving my dreams, with good and evil, I talk steadily in the morning, when they stray down the seven stars below heaven.