How is it that time
pushes me back and forth
How it is that life
makes me want to grow
The spirit grows old
My mind lost control
Survivals of war
The world won't reach its dawn

mine
is built from
hills
and valleys
hills and creases

a body
a vessel
a shape
a form

mountains and valleys
beige yellow green and red
body is an arrangement
of forking paths

his
constructed by the devil
he is beautiful
in his sharp knife body
created from dust
before it could settle

Maybe you’ve known me your whole life
Maybe I just met you last night
I just hope I’ll be all you’ll ever need
If I’ve already met you,
I pray that I notice you the moment
You notice me
If our paths have yet to cross
I pray I’m ready for you
And that you are open to all of my possibilities
My insides are full of infinite beginnings and endings
you get to decide how you choose our fate

I just pray that I am ready for surrender
Because
I have held up this sword and shield for so long
I don’t know
what I’m fighting against anymore
I’m afraid I’ve been fighting my demons for so long
That I don’t even remember how the war started
But I promise I’ll fight for you
I’m not sure if I want you to be a warrior
Or a lover
Can it be both?
Can the two swim together in balance,
Or do they battle to the death?
You can come and go as you please
Just promise you won’t do me like the rest

Countless paths
Alternative routes
Only one guide
can see you through.

What leaves won’t leave you
What’s rooted holds you
What flies sees you exposed
What lies stays a child
What dries up won’t remain dry
What’s come to pass shall roll again
Old songs don’t go when new ones play
Things drip and flood, dance out their pace
A snaking river knows its way
No tongue to speak or eyes to see
This realm spins to realign
So every sunbeam finds its tree

*   *   *

Което те напуска, няма да те пусне
Което корени е пуснало, държи те
Което лети, те вижда открит
Което лъже, дете си остава
Което пресъхва, няма сухо да остане
Което е минало, пак ще се търколи
Не изчезват старите песни пред новите
Неща капят, заливат, танцуват си темпото
Лъкатушеща река пътя си знае
Без език да говори и очи да види
Тази шир се върти до подреждане
За да може всеки лъч да намери дървото си

Distance,
A wonderful craftsman indeed
Upon fate’s request,
Dutiful as always.

Articulates time,
By seconds he fixes hours,
By hours he polishes days,
By days he rewrites years.

For it’s own amusement?
Perhaps, fascinated of
Time’s spontaneous remedies
For the heartsick.

The diversity of ones
path, is a well
trodden one. But we
must sometimes try anew.

For without walking upon
other routes, we'll get
lost on the path
we've walked aimlessly on.

Though we may get
lost, we'll find our
footing. And then a
new scenery will awaken.

And through life we
may change our direction.
Each footstep will always
give us different perspectives.