The whereabouts of your mind are anybody’s guess,
Wearing nothing but a smile, you look so well dressed.
Roots finding no soil
A mind lingers in turmoil
An endless journey
Unable to flee
She departed in a flurry of wings, took flight.
Tracks are made for those coming after,
A life of white and laughter,
The milk of being.
Like a village beacon lit for a celebration,
The mind’s halls are lit up, all by music.
Each note, sustained by that intuitive
Leap of faith, restores doubt with rock-strength
As the virtuoso hand trembles and resonates
On the chords of our innermost essence.
On a voyage under nights-roof darkest, aloof-alone,
only stars atone with a glowing harkness,
Would, by knowing which one I should follow,
be an escape from the agape of sea and dark to swallow?
Be showing a way as I drift astray?
May the chosen star in my nightmare dream – gleam a light – beam as I pray for day,
Beaming aglow, it would brighten my dream’s darkly plight of a woeful night,
A fabric to weave in and out of the one mused most
Enveloped in a theory of strings and mindful news posts
Set up a series of lyrical hosts discovering the deepest cognitive coasts
Visually experiencing the tides of thought in the eyes mind and believing in
Sending messages of safe passage over seas
Weathering storms, disease and all liquid creatures swimming about
Destructive demonstrated dance dialect positioning translation
elevators are needless now
You are wonderful
and I am a freak,
undeserving of your
Awaken in blurred fog,
My vision obscurred,
My ears muffled,
Walking colours fast,
In front lay a pair of eyes,
Staring at me,
With The Strings That Are The Nerves… And The Veins… From His Own Arms…
How Wondrous The Sounds… Of The Agonies Made… By The Slicing And Dicing…
Down With The Lambs… Up With The Larks…
Run To The Beds, Children… Before It Gets Dark…