Drifting deeper into this September dust
It’s been a thousand nights of wide open eyes
Waking up to sounds of December dreams
Your hands shaking in this frail wind
As you try to steady your heart beat
To match the stagnancy of these cold encounters
But the little things hurt too much
And the little thoughts dissolve into your atmosphere
Faster then the rain on your skin
Drifting deep into these November nights
A thousand days of rehearsing the right words to say
When all the words you knew too well are too big to house in these hours you dwell in
So you sink into this mud made of spring
Running from a winter that craves your honesty
Your reflections sit here in this fractured mirror
Waiting for you to break this inner silence

Leaves shake in the wind

As the rain pours on the forest floor below.

Water droplets soak the ground for growth.

Giving birth to new life

After storms and strife.

A fresh beginning, made from recent revision.

Sun parts through the clouds.

There's no more division.

A warm light now glows, giving view to a divine vision.

My soul now in remission.

It is time to make a very important decision.

To hold on, or go forth on the Hero's expedition.

Don the armour, be brave and bold.

Or stay back, let not the story be told.

To deny my heart, may leave me cold.

False stories I shall not be sold.

Behold, the guiding light, fire of my soul;
And through my example
Change how destiny unfolds.

She wears no mask
She wears no make up
You look into her eyes
You get what you see

Now the feeling is calm:
Melancholy in a good way;
in a dying after living
a robustly fulfilling life sort of way.

A little ahead of the herd;
a little behind eternity.
Isn’t the herd me too?
What’s going on here anymore?
Is anyone winning or losing anymore?
It seems a bit chaotic anymore.
Megalomania is a big word
for a little mind.
What can we be if not kings
and queens of forever?
Why chose to be born a slave?
Why make a world this way anyway?

Who’s punishing who?
Whose mirror do I see?
There’s no one else to watch;
no one to wave back.
No one noticing anything anyway anymore.
You can do anything
cuz nothing even matters anymore.
Aren’t we at the crux of the cusp
of the ending and beginning of time?
Can’t you see the party playing
on the screen in the other room?
Didn’t you hear the great HUM
resound in her belly?

Why am I still writing?
No one is hearing my words.
You are speaking volumes of love
to masses of vast empty oceans.
You are riding on waves of endless clouds
under the expanse of endless unbroken sky.
You are writing for me
and I am speaking only for you.

So many examples of charm you'll find,
So many questions in my youthful mind.
If faces were the essence of the soul,
Then pretty ones would always have been kind.