Morning steps out in its gilded gown.

you grew out of the tangling black,
those carefree tides that lead to the moon.

the stars i thought were silver knots
would not unwind, danced on the horizon,

softened like the white mist that gathered
the sky and the dark rose of your eyes.

you filled with the quiet of the hills
and i watched as your ghost

started to tell me goodbye, that
ghost whose seas were frozen in the night,

the ghost i loved, and everything that
was fire in me carved the words into

the night's magnolia net and the words
were; " i don't want you to go".

am I an observer
or a participator,
this life, a reel or real
am I whole, or partial?
this is all surreal
are we living
or watching time spill
doing nothing
rotating in this cosmic realm,
starting where we started,
ending where we end,
rolling the rock up the mountain
watching it fall
traveling back up again.
what is the deal?
we know the prison,
let's dig up the tunnel.


am I a spectator,
or a perpetrator,
this death, a dream or dire,
am I fractured, or entire?
this is all infernal,
are we decaying,
or watching shadows crawl,
doing something,
descending into this chthonic realm,
starting where we're buried,
ending where we're born,
our remains part of the earth,
watching it crumble,
crawling back down again.
what is the ordeal?
we know the freedom,
Are we combusting chemical?