Mystic minds

Show me a dream

And I'll show you childhood

Show me your childhood

And I'll show you a dream

Of one sort or another

Always

Puddles

Can you see it

That memory clear as day

I can

Just a surely as rain

Settles down and sits

In these puddling ways

And with reflecting means

Always come to an end

With each following day

And yet

That is what

Makes its all the more special

When a reflective pool as such

Can stay for a second day

And with such a gleaming gleaming smile

Be alive as such

Dispite its impermanence

With no chamce to survive

Or thrive

Still

In stillness

It shines

This is the second day puddles way

Unbroken, unbreaking, self

Taking time for self
Is like telling an ice diver
Not to not breathe
Or to prepare for the plunge
Or to not grow old
As a result of cold

Hue hue, good luck

The ends

The nature of a human way

Is to do such a something

Almost fully

Until one day

With far less than half a heart

The distant beat dies

And suddenly with new life

We begin again elsewhere

And the old way is left

In dusty storm gutters

And abandoned symphony halls

To echo in memory

And then with an end

It suddenly does

Imperfect

We humans set our perfect little worlds

In perfect order

Until

The remembrance hits us

That we are but 

Worlds within worlds within worlds

And that all things under the sun will fade

Or burn if too close

To the maker of day

All around is nothing and something

Everywhere you go

You see someone else's vision

Even God's by means of the windup trees

And the rolling rocks in the untimbered forests

Everywhere you look

You are bombarded by these

And they are not yours

And they are not free

Nothing is

Inevitable fires

Can you truly prepare

For a house to burn

For a tree to fall

For a calendar month without days to end

For a night to be dark

For a season to be unimaginably long

Can you try

Sure you must

Can you see

Not by any means nearly enough

But you will

As you can

And yet you can't

And that's the saddest thing of all

Growing

With more feeling, I can't

With more time, I don't have

With more empathy, enough

It is time

For something smarter

To relieve this old weary ache of a mind

And give way to something

Something restful and

For all thiae concerned and at work

It is time

For something more kind

True Neutral

Somedays you cannot

See me in a crowd at all

For I am normal

And lost

And free

Ane noone now

And yet other days

Like today

I stand out like a thumb

And peer out like a hawk

And look down like a cloud

Far from normal I shout

Into nothingness fall

Overflow

Sometimes I

A well

Can feel it brimming

But I want a flood

Reactive

Everything that happens to me

Resonates

And rings out

Like a bell

Tempting me to song

Or harmony

Or lyric

Or the lack thereof

Which sings its own kind of song

That is me

Crusts

Humanbeings

With their worlds

Within worlds

Sometimes only see

The crusts of crusts

Within earths of earth's

And I note...

When really...

We are both mounds

And ants

And dirt

And words

My silence near

The most addicting thing

We hate and fear

And want and need

Push away and hold dear

Is this

Is you

My silence

My near

A tired drifter across the room

A man

In his latter years

Oriented properly

Does not want pity

Or charity

Or anything as such

Equally unkind in his own mind

But a friend who cares

Enough to not up and walk away

But to see the true state of things

This

Is a gift beyond all measure and kind

Life is neither season nor song

It's so funny

How we humans think

That being alive is somehow

The next thing

The next trip or fall

The next season or song

When really all we have is God and time

And only one of those is a timeless gift

If chosen then both

Can be a blessing to find

And then? What?

Find a mate, and then what?

Get the raise at your job, and then what?

Build a home alive, and then what?

Fully transform your mind, and then what?

Cut your hair to style, and then what?

Burry a loved one who died, and then what?

Raise a child alive, and then what?

Dedicate your whole life, and then what?

So you've won, passed some time -

And then?

Where hope resides

No matter how the feel

Or strong the rise

Or sharp the edge of the wave

Or speed of the receding tide

Regardless of this

All of these

Are things in bloodflow

Or around at least

Are alive

And fun

And full of rushing

And yet

Fun is not what presides

In the heart of all

That instead

Would be hope and where it resides

Parry En Passant

There is a future, young

Open to possibilities endless

And then there is the committed

And guarded

Sword of strength and defensive

That is parry and lunge

The queenside and en passant

Proud Brothers

Sometimes we men

Don't even need to acknowledge

Our pride and joy

In seeing our brothers succeed

Because we as men

Truly grounded in self, and God, and truth

Once believed that we could

And did, and loves

And cannot help but smile at these

When we see our fellow man

Taming stallions and scaling mountains

And felling trees, and planting trees

For these they need no acknowledgement

When we see

Location, aspirations, words

My words and I

Are most please to be

In good breath found

And at leisure with the world

Not that one nor the other

Particularly cares for one another

But the world can have its air

Collapsing mountains and seas

And all the men who toil above and beneath

I instead employ only their minds

Their bright eyes and hopes

When they look beyond you

And above these your skies

There is where I will be

And in great body speak

This is where I aspire for my words to be