Alone . . .
it can’t be done,
if one does not learn to reach out,
and let it speak from another mind.
When I look up,
to the sky in the dead of night,
I see high noon on world’s other side.
Down deep within what the world is,
is something that can be happy and sad.
Far,
as eyes will lead,
oneself,
to see,
only then can be found to ever-so be,
as big as the open sea.
In the fields of life,
there are only signs that my life feels sincere.
Speak of what is truth,
not bitten of false honesty.
Sun glows of mother’s heart,
giving the warmth of the life for her children,
even miles apart.
Rain falls timeless,
soothingly and eerily,
that it washes clear my sense of time,
dreamless.
It only soon is becoming apparent.
Between, good and evil,
leaning more,
lack of balance . . .
only equilibrium.
Chances,
of coming clear,
are systematically indefinable,
on a scientific merit.
Standing high,
looking below,
and grinning of jesters,
teeth all aglow.
From side to side,
stuck, but can’t help that it’s stump.
Lean on not what is there,
but is real,
having you whisper your dreams and desires.
Run now and never see me again.
From here is goodbye,
but know it’s far from over,
when time passes,
I will find you again.
And in short of a poet to another,
be them masters or shaky chancers,
I bid you farewell.
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