Learning to Be

                                 To the Burning Sun longing to echo the Nocturnal moon.

                                 The white ghost gazer of this train wrecked world
                     
                    that is always moving,
                                                       always fleeting,
                                                                               always fading,
                                                                                                   always never fully returning,

Because the Edict was written by God.

Because I do not know what the Edict said about my destiny.

Because a destiny, I am told, is something worth having.

       To the boy wanting to be like a leaf. Wanting to drift on Sylph's Autumn winds throwing breezes at Sycamores,

       Wanting to be a leaf owning nothing but the star ridges of its boarders as it floats along,

Because a man is too much like a pain.

Because a leaf is always better off torn about its branches.

Because Autumn is what he likes.

      To the lamb white wanderers who have lost their echo. Who have said "Hear me, I need to be heard, hear me."

Because an echo is green and I am brown, dirty, ungreen.

Because this is my own life.

Because to have a life, is to belong.

      To the boy sweating through Summer suns,
                                                    shivering through Winter wastelands,

                                                                      soaking through Spring showers,

                           the edict was written for you.

                 Because a name does not become a man.

                                              Because a man says who he is.

Clarity

Out of the sound the answer came.

Like a thief on some memorable stormy night.

And it sang to me as it came.

Singing sweet soothing revelations into my eager awaiting ears.

I was drowning, drowning so slow I didn't know what was happening.

That answer, that in reality was disguised inside a beautiful apology, that answer I longed to hear granted me that peace I groaned for and wept to feel.

Evangelistic glass can now be swept into the furnace and burned to perfection. That holy perfection the Deceitful One could never come to understand.
My brother, your perfect answer was all I needed.
No more rocks will fall now.

No more talk of darkness.

Get back Father of Lies.
                         

          "You bastard" I say "you are the nameless shadow that loomed over my bed ripping to shreds my powerless dream catcher. You tried to break the love brothers have for one another by dragging us down to your resting place. I pity you. But not enough to die for you. But I would gladly die for him. For he who loves me"

                                                  Together our faith equals His love.

Happier are Those who Busy Time

Screeching...

         Leeching...

               Teaching...

                     Breaching...

                          Reaching...

Raking...

      Breaking...

            Faking...

                 Making...

                      Taking...

Turning...

      Yearning...

            Burning...

                  Earning...

                        Learning...

Crying...

       Prying...

              Trying...

                   Flying...

                         Lying...

Such is life.

Polarized Participles poured out over a pulse of destiny.

A heart beat always in motion, never in idle.

Each moment dragging into the next ringing like some bell bringing word of the indefinite bomb.

The untimely walk in the park. The day we left our doors unlocked.

All actions echo back a penalty, a posture, a price.

Down down the rabbit hole we go. Up up the busy stream we row.

Never sleeping.

Always peeping.

Forever leaping torwards some full fledged inscrutable (i n g).

Without Us

We could have been all that ever mattered,

all that flashed between streets of Victorian neighborhoods shot in frames of black and white ,

all that could be concieved from the covenant of rainbows and sand dollars.

For life without love is no life at all.

We could have sat down at the table and drank to memories that shroud the past in kisses of passion that trail themselves into the lense of the camera man.

Valentines would have meant more to us than chocolates in the dark and red wine stains on the carpet. Aniversaries could have seen more than Frank Sinatra songs about ladies and luck.

My love I see that time is sentimental in spite of us and flourishes His clockwise turn against our promise.

Our promise to never spin backwards.

If we can not speak to each other plainly then I will not speak at all.

And if we can not see our counter parts as stars in our own galaxy then tis better never to see again.
O my little flower never wilt for death has claimed too many blooms and it will not devour you as well.
                                      A world without you is no world at all.

Comes Back to You

The day was long, the the light was harsh, the road was wet, the air felt brittle.

The boy remembered, the girl called back, the heart felt empty, the past was little.

Yet when all things flash and fade away thoughts come back to you.

Yes you.

I have been faithful and never forgot, though you might have.

Not that there was anything to remember.

The past was nothing more than a dream within a dream, in which laws proved more brittle than tattered glass and I begin catch your eye.

Catch the deepest part of your heart and the hottest vessels of your blood.

The past seems so long ago, even for this man.
But I cling to moments of our presence amist one another and the seconds of minutes of hours of nights we laughed and danced.
The time your name was proud among my lips and your fire draped magestically about your ears.
I am waking up from this stillness and when I do I will run back to you and when I arrive you and I will laugh and dance once more.
And there will be no more dread of heartbreak but blissful uncertainty.

Fallen Down

If I told you that I loved you would you cry with me?

If I told you that I need you would you die for me?

Come and follow me and hear my last song. Come and follow me it shant be long.

If I painted your world red strings would you spin them round?

If Heaven rained down all my tears would you dry them now?

There it is, that song I long for.

There it is, love that he died for.

Please help me.

God save me I have fallen down.

Do you love?                   Can you love?                  He has fallen down.

If I sang you all of my dreams would you dream with me?

If I hurt you, if I was wrong...... if I was wrong...... Could you forgive me?

Here is my final love song, sing it to me to lift me off the ground.

 If you fell back and I caught you would you trust me then?

                                    Every night I still dream of the way things might have been.

Never Over When you Give up

What visions I had of you this Eve, my shadow.
For when the figure of my figure took shape and waltzed around my chambers, I knew the God of sleep was at large and I must have been dreaming.
Waiting for that dreaded knife fingered Sandman to leap out at me from any angle and cut me to shreds, I began to cower underneath my blankets.
They say a dream can still you and a nightmare will kill you.
You my shadow halted your angelic waltz and hurled my blankets across the room.
You seemed so incredibly eager for me to listen that I could no longer run and hide like some child.
That is to say I could no longer run from myself.
I could hear the Sandman's knives lurching up the stairs and it was time to fly.
I took my shadow by the hand and leaped off my chamber window and soared through the London town. Leaving behind all traces of foul play and tracing my own future with images of the Tower and Big Ben and the stones of which the strongest London buildings are made.

                                 And in an instant the dream dissolved, it all did.