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You inhabit the world
As a sculpture of the wind.
        
Your radiant forms,
Feast of light and shadows.

In the center of perception,
Watching you makes everything real.

Aroma of nakedness,
I devour your feast of forms.

Transfigurations, endless possibilities;
Your body is the the bridge over the abyss.
The lilacs are blooming spreading their fragrance throughout the air it's scent is fresh and crisp and cheerful.
May we be like the lilacs may our life be pleasant to those around us.
Let us create positive relationships that will inspire others and be like a lasting fragrance  that will be remembered long after our season on earth is through. Let us leave those lives that we touch much better off than when we first found them. Let us strive to build each other up on a daily basis and be a cheerful and encouraging presence to those lives that we touch. Be a lasting fragrance starting today!
I walk into
the ruins
of the ancient temple
and feel the presence here
it is all around me
gently surrounding
in invisible caresses
it feels so strangely familiar
like the silent
understanding glance
of an old friend
or an unseen talisman
it is beating within me
pulse quickening
yet is unnamed
I let myself breathe it in
like an echo
of the spells of yore
wander through archways
of broken yet graceful doors
touch crumbled walls
let my fingers trace
the cracks in the stone
soon my words will fill them
as parched paper
is filled with legends
This is where
the ancients prayed
where people brought
their hearts
          in chanted verse
This is where people
placed hopes and dreams, made
requests to the universe
This is where faith
was expected
               to be so vitally forged
where offerings of fruit and grains
would fill up their hopes,
souls engorged
This is where eyes saw
timeworn brightness
of semi-precious stones
                  glyphs that held
significance, now under dust
like tiny bones
One can still see the
a venerable alter,
once held sacrosanct
under watchful, chiseled eyes
of the goddesses and their ranks
I sit upon the low stone bench,
           run my hands across mosaic,    
feel the force
I know that, despite its
acclaimed holiness
              this is not
love and light's main source
for that has all along
been inside me
pumping love within my veins
taking my spirit in journeys
to its own sweet, celestial planes
How we claim our
own private battles
   determine whether we lose or win  
As the sound
of my grounded heartbeats
rises up,
I am ignited
       from within
Why did I fall asleep
Slips the thought into my brain
I need to calm myself down
No tequila for me again
Where did the beach go
It's so silent and serene
Adrift in the Mediterranean Sea
With the bluest sky I've ever seen
I only dropped off for a second
And now I'm floating away
The waters nice and calm though
It's nice to watch the waves sway
What's that in the distance
It's triangular and dark
Oh no looks like a fin
It appears to be a shark
My watch says eleven forty
I hope it doesn't fancy brunch
Now where has it disappeared to
Can't see it no.....CRUNCH
He crossed over the veil

With the wind and a sail

Using funk and soul

To keep him whole

Beyond all pain

Amidst the purple rain.
RIP Prince
My life is one to a hundred
From birth till my death
One to two I don't remember
Three to seven I found my breath
Eight to fourteen I was exuberant
Fifteen to eighteen was quiet
Nineteen to twenty five I lived
Twenty six to thirty three was a riot
Thirty four to now has grown me
Forty next year has thrown things
I ponder about living to a hundred
And the delights that age brings
.

Where will the circus fall,
leaving giraffes homeless,
as pitched tents get pitched
and sideshow freaks
become the norm,
guessing someone’s weight
who doesn’t care

When the sun sets
tablecloth desires
on a silverware runway
with dishes made of gold
and wine glasses half full
are spilled in sad regrets

Will I walk alone
on a cobblestone road,
counting windows without shades
laced with flat screen televisions
tuned to the wrong channel,
reruns in Technicolor

Broadcasting seeded visions
in open fields of tall grass
when Eric Burdon sang
and cherry trees once stood
producing the fruit
of a past I no longer
want to see

Where will the circus fall,
where will I fall
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