When my glance finally rested on you
the beats of my heart slowed
and my arms opened so wide
I could have held the whole world inside
but all I wanted to hold was you
and never let go again

we marry when the time is right,
if that's something you're interested in,
maybe make a child.
New possibilities.

The fear,
not new,

North, South, East and West all on her heal.

Each calling out for her; making promises, buying time
Four full ripe with offerings, all masters of their crafts

The man that lives in the attic

is soot-coated ebony licorice.

serpentine tongue with whip-like wit.

His smile, as crooked and bony is his back.

I had forgotten but I rememeber now.

You were there, we were there somehow.

Standing together, entwind in the street;

our breath fogging, lips parted we meet.

And then in a wink they all tumbled in,
carried by light so focused and thin
it pierces through souls and links every chain,
knits every lining, births every pain.

Creeping together slowly creaking through time

when life find it's rhythm, the world find the rhyme

entwined they are spinning for purpose sublime

I am the same, whole as before, whole still.

Seasoned and strengthened from the billowing bellows of my past.

Like the muscular arm of a tree

who’s branch has been dancing with the wind

I am the same, whole as before, whole still.

Seasoned and strengthened from the billowing bellows of my past.

Like the muscular arm of a tree

who’s branch has been dancing with the wind

I miss that feeling from when you’re around..

though I cant quite remember who you are

it is the feeling though that I long for,

the silent connection, the comfort and ease

One day, the sun will rise
and shine it’s heavenly rays;
my eyes will lazely gaze
on the morning’s raidiant skies.

In this morning a secret dwells
but time will tick the same

Restlessly stirring, my brain pulls her in again

To dance her dance within the confines of this place.

Holding within her grasp tiny shreds of light beaming from our past.

So, to him I say “Thank you”
for showing me my place
and giving me a little something
for only me to taste.

Surely this is not routine
this little act you do.

If I say “Speak”
will the words flow from your mouth
like sap from the tree of knowledge,
or sap from the tree of life
as they have been intended.
If I say “Drink”,

It isn’t like…

my joy is the damsel in your story

or my happiness, for that matter.

For these two heiroens require no knight;

both are Sequoia in a forest of Pine.