Merely a wake up with water,
I am covered in perfection.
As the water weaves it’s way along,
It’s hard not to leave.
As I float by the street lamps,
I seek my journey through this pathway. Of water
I now am
all that it begs of me. Is this
how life can be?
It came upon us as it fell from the sky above.
A snow day in Burbank: who would’ve thought?
Words run-a-muck
while spinning hysterically around.
They do not envision anything but closure to the light.
However, they ask that light be shown to help guide them.
I am not sure what they ask us of. I am not quite sure where we are.
Hurry and hurry! Here it comes!
Lights out!
Close your eyes to feel what peace feels like, what it looks like.
Thank you.
I am not aware of anything around me, but of only the future.
One day I will relinquish the peace lost in money, time and duty.
Take me now!
The way the sky falls
is the way I know everything will be alright,
one day, somehow.
It’s my way
of seeing that the world is too perfect for anyone to see
and that most have given up.
People’s mistakes are their misfortunes, but our luck.
We are able to see what went wrong
and go on to never create the same misfortune upon ourselves.
As I sit here with the ability to learn,
my head feels damp with pressure
that builds upon itself like a disease,
but as the piano rolls out the notes into the air around me,
I feel life and my release.
It’s amazing. It is.
To stand still after the chaos cleared
and the wind blew everyone away.
Except for us.
We blew everyone away.
And isn’t it amazing:
the power it takes to run the lamp that lights us?
To keep it bright, secure,
is something so appreciated,
I could never thank you for it.
Can’t do it. Won’t do it.
You know better.
Let’s go!
The world is at peace.
Again realizing how lucky I am to be here.
Once more I can close my eyes
to envision the furthest reaches of Earth
and all that there is to offer.
Take me, please,
to where I need to see,
to gasp, to breathe, for life.
To be sitting here,
writing this to you, is only luck.
And I, my friend, am the luckiest.
Some Colorado street somewhere,
ignoring the lights under the California night,
just trying to drive home,
and leave the escape
that only took me 15 miles to get to.
What a peace I found in a world so unfamiliar.
But there I was, for the last time
I leave the place hidden in the back,
full of love, full of love.
They don’t care.
They don’t want to hear it.
Just live among them.
You.
I remember when time stopped,
filled the room,
like the haze on a cloudy day,
or the humidity that fills your skin.
I remember.
I remember mornings of mistakes,
nights of confusion.
I remember.
I remember when I wrote so much I could die.
But it kept me going, so alive, and peaceful.
I remember.
I remember the beauty all around me,
in everything,
illuminated.
Some detect a note, but I often catch the elusive apple,