The dove does not know
the falcon is beautiful.
It only knows the shadow
passing over the grass.
This seems unfair.
The falcon knows
the dove is beautiful.
Knows the softness of its breast,
the small white miracle of it.
And is hungry anyway.
This is life.
Spirit Guide though I can not see you with my eyes
I know you are the only reason I am still alive
Spirit Guide protecting me when in the lions den
Where I can not hide,wiping the tears away when I
Cry, spirit Guide though I can not see you with my
Eyes,I know you are always by my side...
Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray today
With every step I take please show me the way
Be near,calm my fears when I am feeling lost
And afraid, forever, forever and always
Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray today...
Spirit Guide take my hand and lead me back to
The ancient place I come from,help me to understand
My connection better to the great one,is it through
The eyes of the eagle,the bear or the wild cat
Give me the strength I need to leave the past behind
And find peace of mind,no looking back,no more
Looking back...
Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray today
With every step I take please show me the way
Be near,calm my fears when I'm feeling lost
And afraid,forever,forever and always
Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray,hear the prayer
I pray today!
Person-in-Narrative, drowns in own fore-runnership
Hardened by having, comfort is expensive
Taken by bigness in relative-surpluss,
saying less morely, a hear is harrowed.
Remorse in reflection, whole considered,
leads virtue to a self-recollection,
means untrumpen by inheritance,
the one with itself, undoes man & sin,
reclaiming being, from trappedness within.
Delight in self-deprecation,
the cost of collapse, is an exact name.
Whole of parts are those displacements,
free by totality against totality, order is total,
yet ordering comes partial & with partalarchy.
from Green-savings processed in fluffy white,
mutton is a prepaid forgiveness that pays again,
each time, in squandered will to grow, feeding another,
who eats you and whom you shall never know.
Inanity aflame as fire, with new preoccupations,
a spine keeping time endurable, it feeds saturation,
and becomes as loss is. Taken by feast of cheapening sin.
Nature's retort is an opposite reaction almost equal,
losing energy each itteration, a tit for tat, imminantly,
necessary, unplanned (with deeper dignity?); accursed-share minted,
in conservancy.
Farces in willing's impotence, calls forth,
sacrifices before eyes, in an open fire of benevolent squander.
Far from self-making, autophagy turns into compression,
as the employ of disturbance in the use of itself in its opposite.
In scarcity, the small matters as care's possibility towards itself.
In having, all is as picture to itself, in satiety's unwant for spoil.
Equaniminity sits on top of a wave, waving.
Whose schadenfreude, which self-remmunerative ethic?
Lack of lack, as be-leveled-settlement. Bracketted.
All lost but chaos's removal. Solid-state but as freedom.
If the waves grow tired, so shall I.
Mine as route, of the absolute resource.
Saturation turns a new tide, & forgets.
O)_(O <huam’nam>
I heard someone say once a hole is dug
the rule is to replenish the loam
but if the hole comes from deep within
a filthy squatter can call it home
His golden grin masks his rancid breath
He’s hidden in plain sight
He makes his bed and sings his hymn
a lullaby to sleep through the night
The fear at first is now a fleeting thought
“what was I so afraid of?”
He asked me one evening to sing a duet
He told me I sound of a mourning dove
after many songs sung, the gold started to tarnish
and copper canines were left in their place
a gilded smile quickly turned to a deadly thing
a karmic intervention or open-shut case
We gave up on lullabies and only sing after noon
Sometimes even two maybe three
My voice is tired and my throat is raw
But he still wont sing without me
Madness comes in all sizes and shapes
an infectious beat could strike the match
if there is only one lesson that can be learned in life
it should be ‘empty holes look better with a latch’
Wrote this tn…never posted on here but im curious what unbiased folks think
Well and something seems to be missing here in my cottage at the bottom of the Blue ridge mountains and a crystal clear blue stream, when the night falls My lonely heart calls but now I can only see your face in my dreams...
In my cottage of candle lit windows, firelight casting off the silhouette of dark shadows, in my cottage I am up for hours and hours on end reminiscing when, just sitting here drowning in my tears, creating my own false fears in my cottage, in my cottage I haven't left in years...
Well maybe I am just like some old hermit not quite in touch with reality, a broken hearted fool gone crazy, they say we always hurt the ones we love the most but how do you reason with a ghost, oh and when the night falls My lonely heart calls staring at your picture on the wall....
In my cottage of candlelit windows, firelight casting off the silhouette of dark shadows, haunted by the memory of you spending hours and hours on end sad and confused, just sitting here and listening to the knock of a cold winter's wind trying to come in, in my cottage lost in a dream, drowning in my tears creating my own false fears, in my cottage, in my cottage I haven't left in years...
Just an old hermit and a cottage by a river and a valley below just an old hermit and a cottage with candle lit windows.
In the beginning, he pondered the tale
A journey through shadows
Where all dreams set sail;
With each twist of fate, he crafted his path,
Turning sorrow to joy and
Escaping the wrath.
Time dance with the sun,
Casting warmth on his heart
As love whispered softly
igniting the spark.
in the blink of an eye
Reality blurred
A canvas of moments, where
All hope was stirred.
With a pen as his wand
He conjured the past
Building castles of sand
Where memories last.
Wisdom etched deep
in the lines of his face;
Just a traveler of the worlds
Seeking his place.
Through shadows, he wandered
From light into dark
Finding God in the shadows
igniting the spark
Each truth that he held,
A reflection of grace
A tapestry woven
Unique in its space.
The masses may chuckle
But he knows the score;
For life is a journey
With lesson lessons galore.
in meadows of thought
Where his spirit takes flight
He waits for her presence
To bask in the light.
So let flowers bloom
And words intertwine
Love is the essence
That makes life divine
Through echoes of laughter
The whispers and sighs.
His solace is knowing
Sweet love will come by.
by Joel
Lyra in the summer midnight sky,heart on fire
Black Forest tigers eye,behind flames of desire...
I can still hear your voice in the wind on nights like
These but I could use a stronger spell so you will never
Forget about me, come back to me don't believe the
Lies they tell,we have a history and many more lives
Together still to come,the cards tell me Everytime you
Are the one,you are the one and only one...
So where have you gone to dwell these days,I can't find
You in my crystal ball,what happened to us,I don't know
But I could of sworn we had it all,I know we had it all
Til they turned your mind inside out,what the hell is that
About and now the summer is turning into fall...
Maybe you could catch a silent signal when I think
About you, sometimes you just gotta break the rules
Maybe you could find me and my shadow by candlelight
Tonight,I wish I may have this wish I wish tonight ...
We have a history and many more lives together still
TO come and the cards have always said you are the
One,you are the one...
Lyra in the summer night sky,heart on fire,black forest
Tigers Eye through burning flames of desire....
As the sorcerer sends a message on the wind,then it's
Not a question of if,only a matter of when!