Inspiration

We humans

In unbeing

Are the most confusing

Of things

Which are moreso

Of the un

Than of the prior

Has been

And we

Like RF he

And EE him

Ere before

Are unlost

In the searching of our ways

And all the colorful more

In our most painted days

So, in your ageed youth

Let tongues like brushes

Paint and fold

And unwrap sights

Which breathe like the lungs

Until our chests, at rest

Are untighted and full

So it has been, let it be

And now you read

Exemplary

An example can be set

Without anyone else

Having seen or will see

Because the truth is truth

And right is right

And seeing is sometimes an irrelevant act

For true sight

The kind which becomes vision and guides

To this you should aspire

A self preferred

I consider myself
Cursed
And yet somehow beyond lucky
To be
This self of mine
Because
When it comes down to it
Noone
Else
Who I've wither seen or met
Would be more enjoyable to be
That who I am in this moment
For in these words
And realizations
I am surely free

Me

The nature of breath

Breathing out a plan

Is fun

And nice

And easy as can be

(A breath)

If and only if

Your lungs aren't exhausted

From a treacherous marathon

Of a run

Of a day

It is easy

No?

The giver, her

A process for me

Will be letting you

And occasionally even asking you

To take care

And care for

And be cared for

This me

For he is a he

Who is not used to such love

Such trust

And such dependability

Yup

Saria

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