All we need is darkness
for the natural selection of light
I watch the past as a travel show
the necessity or adversity ignites language,
different shapes of games, we like the power plays
of circle
let me be sealed in a wave
I want to descend to the faith of sand
to the Cro-Magno vision of words

i watch the raindrops
how
they slid from the leaves,
and slide
without holding on to the air,
drawing circles
on the face of the
river,
from the Center
towards the outside,
without a compass,

the circles grow
and grow
until the sound of a
trumpet swallows them,
announcing the flight
of the morning
on the wings of the
horizon,

i watch the raindrops
how
they slid from the leaves,
and slide
without holding on to the air,
drawing circles
on the face of the
river,
from the Center
towards the outside,
without a compass,

the circles grow
and grow
until the sound of a
trumpet swallows them

Blessed hands that held the brush so fine,
Spoke of stories yet untold in line.
Fingers that danced with vibrant hue,
Whispered secrets, as the canvas grew.

With every stroke, a tale unfolded,
Of passion, fire, and emotions bold.
The hands that painted, spoke of love,
As colors merged, sent from above.

In gentle touch, they shared a sigh,
As petals bloomed, and sunsets lit the sky.
With firm grasp, they told of might,
As mountains rose, and night descended bright.

The artist's hands, a language true,
Spoke of dreams, and all they'd do.
If you let them, they'd tell their tale,
Of beauty born, and emotions unveiled.

Their whispers echoed, as the art took shape,
A symphony of color, a heartfelt escape.
The hands that painted, spoke of soul,
A language universal, making us whole.

FRIENDSHIP:
All in the same ship or
All in the same boat.

Friends do their best
To understand things
Shared by friends.

FRIENDSHIP TO SOME:
The interests of a politician
An agenda manipulating
Your position.

FRIENDSHIP TO ME:                 
It is not a dictatorship
It does not grab the wheel
It always makes you feel
You are in control.

Friendship does not focus
On fates remains
It cloaks your fears and
Shares the blame.

Friendship is not a forfeit
It closes ears and eyes
To those that accuse and
Deny though on a certain
Level it always remembers
Because its failsafe can
Never forget.
 
DEEPER FRIENDSHIP:           
And then there is a
Deeper purer friendship
Based upon unconditional
Love and mutual respect
Which catapults it
Into a whole new
Dimension of caring and
Nurturing
Which
Transcends simply caring
For its own and glorifying
Its bones in a well-kept
Grave of the status quo
But grows into an
Uncanny respect and
Caring for others
Beyond cliquish and
Familial bonds.

FRIENDSHIP'S BASIS:
Often made of the
Imperfect
Of things that may
Seem
To contradict.
It often overlaps
Most relationships.

And though it may not
Seem to be a monolith
We must sometimes stand
Alone on plains unknown.

I found a portal in a dream
Slipped into a slit
Then came so fast
i lost track of singularity

I'll meet you
In the Rothko Chapel
We'll get a private view
I know some people
It'll be no hassle

Fourteen
Big canvas
In various black
We could stay there all week
We might never come back

Or as long as we can't take it
Raw emotion

Mostly dark

Go out through the emergency exit
Into the
Surrounding
Sunlit
Verdant
Park.

In between the words
Are the dreams we left behind
As floor boards creak under
Hesitant heavy steps.
Between the letters
The camphor tree
Roars in the wind
Like a river
Flowing over its banks and
Miro’s spider waits
In silence
On the wall.
In the refrain
A pause
And the heartbeat
Of loss.

After a long day
my bed calls to me,
Comfy and warm
yet her pillows stay cool to the cheek.

She keeps me company
all through the night,
My thoughts become hers,
in darkness or light.

Will I have good dreams
of love and adventure?
Or will shadows appear,
too deep to mention?

My mind plays tricks,
as she often does,
But my bed fights back
with her comforting hugs.

My neck finds peace
if I lay just right,
She eases my aches
most of the night.

She puts up with my snoring,
my tossing and thrashing,
Each dreamscape journey
more wild and crashing.

And though I kick and I turn
as I move through my dreams,
She never lets me fall out,
always there fixing my seams.

love is not a vacuum
love reaches in

a hand to wipe the sweat from your face
a word of encouragement

a poem on your lips
a listening ear

a gift of laughter
to laugh at yourself.