Validity is not a virtue;
For it is you
And only you
Who can prove yourself true.
A breathing being-
Only if you want to be anything
But a spec of dust,
Searching for validity
In a society
Which has done nothing for thee.
The real virtue is individuality-
The individual
Is valid enough
For themselves.

That dark patterned line
crossing straight the moon,
centering the frozen sphere-gate
of a misty autumn night-sky,
is not a cloud to sink down on only
and float subtly for a while
< so I can feel the aura of your skin mixing with the mine >
but it is also a five line staff
and tells me an aurally perceived absolute secret so that ,
through my hearing ,
you will
rise,
glide,
twirl
and cross
other lines,
tune my gaze
and engrave a mystic score beyond your shine,  
plant each of  ‘you’s,
note by note,
in ones, halves, fourths, eighths , sixteenths and ‘pi’s
in the heart of each
<beyond the clouds away from my reach>
twinkling star  

so that anyone that could look up with a heart,
<maybe on a clear night sky>
would see a commencing song-
singing the dance of an ever weaving light-story
visible to those eyes with a knowing only that
<the knowing about a wish is
a wish that shall eternally be kept a secret>
has the enlightening technology to recreate a reflecting galaxy
with an authentic memory
that expands infinitesimally
<which we in our terms would say it expands by love
but in truth would not really know how
unless the terms are lost and we have got no time except to  > - be now-
be now
be now with me now
and now and only now
be now and with me now
and only now and now

Would you come and meet me then?
there?  
but I don’t know where… just there?
wherever all these sky lookers are
and be one of them, again ?  as we did once– on a terrace
one summer night, we watched our own story under stars,  among crowds while I asked for your light and you kissed me awake for eternity and so
would you let me kiss you this time - one more time
just for the last time  and forget that eternity  eternally this time?

Am I not seeing things as they really are?
If so, then what am I seeing?
I do not want a filter.
Or, maybe it is that I am seeing things as they are,
And you are seeing things as you want them to be.
But that is not how they should be,
Because your view
Is skewed.

The land is colorful,
Full of life and luster,
Continuous and forgiving.
Forgiving of me.
Forgive the love that is
Taken for granted in the
Relationships of your
Parents -
She takes the dagger
And follows her fate
Down the alleyway
To forget everything
That has happened
In her past fate -
Unnoticed.
She listens to the clip
Claps of her heels on the
Pavement
Down the alleyway.
Eternity is above her headboard
When she sleeps -
Eating at her dreams,
Waiting to be noticed.
She has writer's block -
Which is not writer's block
But a lack of faith in
Language.
She is sad -
Sad for the poor
And the ones who
Roam the streets at night,
During the twilight.
She goes to sleep
Thankful,
Although most
Think she is not.