So stay away and leave me behind
The wind blows your sails
But you don't know what treasure I'll find
Cause I'll walk and I'll swim and I'll run to the ocean to find

You
Baby, it's true

The wind blows my sails
Faster and powerful than ever before
The gust fills the breeze and I'm back looking at the trees
And the land I once knew before

But know I've found you
In the breeze
A place I never thought I'd get to know
It's here a story so old
And a place so new in my heart
A place to start

The wind in my sails pulls me forward and I will not depart
Because I feel the breeze taking me where I don't know
I need to go
And I will find it
The sky above me
The waves the sails the sea
And I will find a place to call my own
A place on the sea
I'll find a place to call my home

i’m always asking questions
i already know the answers to
for some reason i can’t accept it’s real
unless i hear it from you
and the answer is always no
i tell you i understand
and it's true, i do understand
because i have been preparing myself
to hear you say it
since the day it began

it’s good and then it’s bad
and it’s love until it’s apathy
as sure as the sun sets
in the west i know all
good things turn to dust
just as suddenly as they
accumulated into opacity
i don’t want to accept the way
i’m so easily turned into a casualty

a plan made two weeks in advance
is almost unheard of in my life
i know there’s a good chance
you won’t be here by the time
i get your christmas gift in the mail
but i ordered it anyway because
a piece of me is always hopeful
but hope isn’t always the dreamy
optimism i usually paint it to be
sometimes it’s just an excuse
to turn a blind eye to the end

if you shut the door i’ll
cover my eyes so i can’t
see you leaving, even with
goodnight on the tip of my tongue
if you don’t say goodbye
i’ll stand there til i fall asleep
thinking you might still wrap
me up and carry me to bed
i knew all the words before
but i needed to hear them said

i’ll ask you a question just to
hear you tell me i’m right
and the answer is always no
he loves me, he loves me not
a million yeses don’t lead to another
and a trillion noes will end the same
but i need to hear it from you
crush the hope stirring in my
chest that makes it harder to
breathe, say it soon, or i’ll die
holding my breath for you,
again

the moon sets in the sky
like a bird knows how to fly,
many people travel by
they never wonder why.

days go by and by
are you living on a lie?

when you speak do you think?
do you ever stop to blink?
have you ever felt the brink?

you have to come to terms
the reality flame must burn,
you cant live your life like this
if youre living like a fish...

trapped in endless water,
do you ever even bother
to look at yourself and say
there has to be a better way.

there has to be happier days,
a tree with perfect shade
an unflawed picture in its frame
life cannot be a waiting game.

I've forgotten how to speak
I've forgotten how to smile
But if I sit down and just think
Perhaps I'll remember for a while

I've lived a life by many names
By many faces, old, and new
I've seen my reflection fade to dust
And think, perhaps I can do that too

See my smile
Of course you do
I've made sure it looks convincing
But look deep into my eyes
And perhaps my mask is slipping

Have you ever looked at me
No, really, looked at me
What do you know, what do you see
Perhaps it is a truth, but candid is hard to be

I often think to myself
What would the doctors say,
If they could get a hold of me

That was a joke.
Funny, is it not?
Perhaps there may be more this than I had originally thought

It is the capacity only to act for myself.
It is the capacity neither of self-subsistence nor without
self-reliance.
It is neither the epitome of wisdom, nor the epitome of
ignorance.
It is not the epitome of beauty nor the epitome of
ugliness.

Lack doesn't make for worry and excellences
are counted as special gifts of life.
Like a ****** pressed between my fingers is my soul
in God's Presence.
Thus, do I recognize my karma as not the
best, but not the worst.

It is surrounded by pretty, but not the equisite.
It is surrounded by clutter and dirt, but
not grotesque filth.
It is as a middle ground from which any quality
would cease the ground's existence.
It is not mommy or daddy, not child and not adult.
It is not old nor young.
It is not sun nor moon, but star.
It is not perfection, but comfortable imperfection.
It is not as fair as pastel, nor as gaudy as neon.
It is not known, but not unknown.
It is not host of a soul, yet does not exclude
any soul.
It does not grasp, nor release.

"Why is your skin orange?"
It is joking about vanity.
It is not slack, nor is it strong effort.
It is not wickedness, nor is it judgement.
It is not righteousness, nor is it evil.
It is not astray, nor is it unastray.
It is not a party, nor is it loneliness.
It is the monk of reality.
It pretends not to harness all of my memories.
Nor does it pretend not to conjure memories.
It is not shadow, nor light.
It is the plastic-self, unable to be immortal,
and unable to abide mortally.
It is the spirit of self, yet the spirit of others.
It is not empty, nor full.
It is construction of the simple.
It is construction of the difficult.
It is cleaning the toilet.
It aligns with no group, nor does
it not exist in any group.
It is folly through shallowness.
It is wisdom from shallowness.
It is not pure, nor does it lack
purity.
It is not popular, nor does it fail to get attention.
It is desire, not not sin.
It is her, but not Her.
It is resurrection, but not life nor death.
It is not heard, nor listened.
It is not unhealthy, nor is it strong.

boyhood crushes.

It is not power, nor is it incapacity.
It is not opinionated, nor is it opinionless.
It is not blood, nor is it light.
It is not long, nor short.
It is not curved, nor straight.
It is not solid nor gas.
It is not water nor is it not a liquid.
It is not salt nor is it not saline.
It is not belt, nor backpack.
It is not car nor home.
It is not bed nor is it not rest.
It is not gold nor bread.
It is not giving nor hoarding.
It is not meat but it is cheese.
It is not poor, nor rich.
It is not career nor retirement.
It is not fair, nor unfair.
It is holy, but not pure.
It is not heresy, nor help.
It is not metro nor country.
It is not the center nor is it the side.
It is not age nor mind.
It is not body nor heart.
It is not skin nor bone.
It is not brief nor long.
It is not sink nor swim.
It is not lesson nor tale.
It is not story nor biography.
It is not virtue nor vice.
It is not a lie nor a truth.
It is not shallow nor deep.
It is not structure nor process.

Samadhi.