I've been wondering
What makes you
As you are
I can't quite fathom
What's your homing star
Can't give you your freedom
Won't give you a cage
It's seems you don't know
what you want
At this stage
See, I can't help you
While you're on the mend
I can only hold your hand
And be here as your friend.

Pretty white flowers
in the sun
The day’s just begun
Golden light falls across
Your face
It’s so lovely
The need to embrace you
Is strong
I do sense a sense of
Belonging

Sometimes I want to write
But am not sure what
I want to express
Nothing to impress upon you
Except the need to rid myself
Of excess mind stuff
It’s therapy
It’s release
It’s an exorcism
An affair of the mind
One to another
Always wanted a brother
Had a sister instead
Is as it is
Strokes my hair,
My mother, as she tells me
Put your backpack on and go
Just go
Get away from yourself
So I did.
But you know,
One returns to oneself
You can’t run forever
Sometimes you just have to
Sit with yourself
And have that conversation
You’ve been avoiding
Sometimes it’s time
To reabsorb your many you’s
And acknowledge your shadow
As being part of you.

When you
Look at me
I feel electrified
Almost terrified
I know just what
Would happen
If you happened to me  
If I had to
Happen upon you
I would be utterly
Absolutely intoxicated
By you.

In the gardens of paradise
We ate figs from the tree
That gave us shelter
And we swam in the water
that gave us nourishment

We crafted little horses
From wood as Gods smiled
in encouragement

Our horses would take us far
From gardens of perfection
And daily introspection

Not sheeple blindly believing
In something we couldn't see
But people with purpose
And curiosity

Manes billowing in the wind
As we ran..
Away from captivity
Into the wild unknown
Toward our destinies
Toward our freedom
Toward ourselves

Then, when we were
Adam and Eve,
We were expected to believe
But now we are free to be
What we choose to be
And we do so knowingly
Lovingly
Consciously
Aware of karma and consequence
We choose our own destiny.

Trailing fingers
Across wet surfaces
Tracing patterns
From the mind onto
The vastness
Of that ocean
That emotion
And devotion
Wanting to be a part
Of something
And not apart from it all
Trans soul migration
When something inside
calls out
And like moth to flame,
You answer
When that droplet
Comes home
And the sea breaths.