'in the hour of sleep i am whole... when awake there are just too many faces... to many lines....too many characters.... i have always known my weakness... or rather what would burn away my body..... it is being around people.... the more people i am around for long periods of time i  burn more energy.....soon i will have no spare energy to burn and my body will fail me....but that is the fate of all men of my line....none of us have strong bodies... just either strong wills or great dreams"

I had asked the universe if I had found my new muse

but as I enter further down her clouds parting her lure

from her image as the music of her speech sews into visions

of a light of a life caught in a pause searching for connections

that will help unfold the feelings for the universe

she so earnestly seeks to share with each ripple

on this rain riddled lake we all exist in

for a being who seeks she willingly

she does not arm herself

as it is war

she is really entering

“a war with self”

to thin the needless habits

from the characters within

that make us

whole rather than just

a gathering of holes

stand above the crowd

if one seeks the crown

but she is a “lover”

so no heart for a fight

as a boy it comes to me without real thought

the base roar of the hunt to always seek a better path

thankfully I was never fond of the physical world so …

I built my psyche

I armed my sense of reason and morals forming a sword...

I used my empathy

and humanity to form a shield....

with it all I formed a life with a point

as a life has no point but the one one gives it....

I have taken so now it is eye who must give

she is not ready to be a muse

I can draw all I want from her

but she does not know

what it is she can take from me

so the exchange is not fair

why must it be fair

fore it is a river

if the flow does not match

the current of melt

then all we end up with

is a deep lifeless

ravine

*

- - tea minus six as stems of bob bursting through the surface of the soil appear though only still below the guard of green blades of grass - -

the dry eye of reason

tears through sight's lies

as before us there

blooms a lady

barely

a woman

she needs

more

then eye can offer

yet what eye

desire

she

has no way

to deny

fore

her history

with all its

wounded flutes

or morning

strings

strummed

by fates

hands

with

eyes

will

be

told to me

in moments

of odd conversations

which is what

eye have

become

a master of

*

I have spoken of eye yet have yet to give her the glass slipper that would make my intentions as clear as sand struck by the inspiration of thunder....crystal would be the view if she took a moment to pause and listen to me...yet I am spoiled by the first muse.....she offered me an even exchange we took nothing and gave nothing but time.....it was a full circle...from sand to crystal to sand again.....yet I must move on with my path.....as one has to wonder if eye can be anything more then the sum of my musings...

I know what would make my voice sing

but I want a different song

I love the sound she brings out of me

but......one must keep wandering

fore in being the dog with freedom

I was to go from place to place

from one view to another

never to stay merely

to witness

yet

as I had feared

she had become

my earth

a soil I could

fall too if not fore

yet I seek to

soar as

a son

of

a sun

so eye must turn

drawing future sparks

into the spheres

but I will find a way to return to her who will claim the title of first

fore she even just the memories of our last if not only time drinking together

eye knew fate had placed me right where this dog with freedom could call

“a home”

*

in being

the essence of self

eyes pressed to soil

as palms feel

the pulse

of

a spiraling earth

mirrors in the fog

as windows appear

off within the specs

flickering across

this uni-verse

as a lily

poses

a slayer of men

she wares a sense of self

openly as a wild forest

raging in waves along

the feet of mountains

a new coat of contentment

with a vintage sense of the seeking sage

she is a puzzle as troubling as an autumn maze

yet the conflict will be in her sense of justice

&

the pursuits her grasps reach for

will eye witness without

a word of warning

or do eye wait

to sea

the oceans

of fate's

infinite

hands

with

eyes

*

sword sway in the waiting exhale

as the hands tremble with words

who will eye point at with nigh sight

*

my life is one grand social experiment

it is why I work where I work

since it throws pretty random

numbers at me......

and like all good experiments

I do have a control group

which is my family

*

in being the lapse in orbit

running down the width of mi'

a sister the realm of pi

she grinds the sands

into miles of deeps

curves of an

ocean's

hips

a wisp drifting between

a firefly whispers

of spirit plumes

as the smoking earth

seas & saws

echoes of photons

to soaring suns

speaking

with a

flaring tongue

weaving spells

in hymns

of the rumblings

that shattered

the will of

gravity

“into thirty six paths

with forty two answers

&

grow eleven grasps

with just one question”

*

life or a life

the ohmms

have spoken

yet will

there be

enough

collected

neutrinos

to spark

a new

lapse

in

the densest of gravity's songs

death or a death

the mantras

have been written

yet would there be

enough thought

to stir the glass

at the reach

of fate's

hands

with

eyes

*

one is a set that keep adding

the other a set that keeps minussing

would there be a point in crossing

other then one... only

if one believes

in the zero

*

fate smiles as it offers me a drink

all the while knowing I will get drunk

waking hung over with a thirst

fate offers me a drink

eye can not resist

the curves

&

bends

of this river

how it calls to me

glintingly in the distance

torn from the corners

of seduction's

Corazón

melting any reserve

so too a summer's snow coloured embers

brushed along by the whims of zephyrs

melts the white cape of a mountain's resolve

luring eye to a seeping state

as the wine pours into the breath

of the witness to the roar of truth

as the lionweed stands ready

to embrace the flames

of not just

“any ale”

but the dark roots

of mystery's gaze

™Deyja of the omens™
©K.R.N©