the aftertaste that burns for weeks after the day that comes
I hope that when I go away it will be beautiful
that sleep becomes a wonder
and that time regrets its passing only for a day

I dont know what I will become or what I have been
but I love you
you are her sun

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the fact of our individuality resides in us and yet the hardest thing to do is to move on, to put this to one side and to be there for others, understanding and finally, communicating. this is what makes us humans, but still we want to be islands.
the refusal to give in to those impulses of acceptance that trigger the mind. to listen to the heart when we know, but we cant explain, that this set of circumstances is wrong, that we could be doing this better, that we could be moving forward instead of standing still. its all a question of approach.
its about moving. seeking out. involving.becoming. not a journey along a fixed destination when it will all be clear, but a journey within a circle that explores and maps the possibilities that arise along the way. we are here. we are not yet there, or there: this is what it is. where are we going? from this moment to the next, and back to where we came from, and then out again.

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whatever fails or gives
the same question sometimes robs
all the lame and despaired
of pure or only gifts:
the future that rests in the past
and the present day,
a poor way to steal and swing upon
the stars and the moon as it rose
high above my eyes, a beauty,
a face, a mind-
hope only gathers what virtue she sees.

If I cant convince myself,
who else will listen?

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strange feeling:
the distant sounding of my shadows
rhymes with the space in my mind
and the falling keeps on falling,
a sound, astounded, towering
mornings of twinned and twining hearts.

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YOU NEED TO KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
THEN BECOME NO ONE.