Someone lead me now, failing that, this ship may sink,
Though no one stands there behind the curtain.
No one is pulling at the puppet strings.
Should I invent an entity so great,
That I, even I, could consider following?
Oh how diabolical a deed.
It must be done,
And right away.
My creation will create myself,
This new self,
Leading to the infinite
There for all to see.
Now I become the puppeteer,
That no one can see.

It's almost time to go.
And so here's to those,
Travelling up and down the open eastern shore,
Where dreams and reality play once more,
Where we gaze upon the travellers and the travelled,
Who never found what they were looking for.
Follow me.

These four walls
Familiar yet new
Close in
Expand out

Industry calls
Preys upon dreams
Sets its goals
Upon those who crave
The glory days
Built up from birth

They permeate all forms
Of things that touch
The human heart
The human mind
The human soul

They serve themselves
Before all
They serve themselves

There they stand
Like new again
In the mind
Think tank back

Spots on the map
Where we've been
What we've seen
Who we are
Refects upon today
Looks the other way

Ghosts of the past
They haunt the ground
And alter the course
Of travelling sound

Those that rise above
Seem somehow to know
That they are the ones
Needed in the plows
That grow the fields
Of wicked wheat

And then there are
Those that are unknown
Here as nothing
There as something

Also an expance of futures
Calling and drawing
In all directions
And for all reasons
They can't get enough
And you push some aside
Only to have them
More overtly contrive
A decent explanation
For what they provide

Soon they say
We will be
And it is believed
But the truth is alive
In what we perceive
The outcome of which
Is nothing without
The garden
We grow

Go

The revelations of numbers
Spawn inclusions in the mind
And matters of the heart
Start tapping in time
To the beat of the soul
The rhythm of the whole
The streets of the mystic
Where the wild waves roll
We look to our past
And what the future remains
To be written again
At the top of the page.

Stalking your Tumblr, brief insights.
I attempt to reconcile the feminine, as something I cannot give.
(I am the polar bear on the floor)
My mind wanders and wonders,
As I call one last time.
She's not picking up.
Is she?
Am I not enough?

Never thought it was possible
To miss anything this much
Days seem indefinable
And nights out of touch
And now see what I've become
Now that you're not around
I hope you never miss anyone
As much as I miss you now