Try and keep your mind free
when it's so easy to bind. one tragedy to another, one disaster to your living room, lash one more storm spirit to the deck and laugh at the misery
The storm swirls inside Worse than it's always been
If this is your first visit If this is your hundredth
The swells, broken hearts Wet puzzle pieces That will one day dry
Keep your mind free
The broken, tired and wonderful burdens remain
at the end of the stream was the start of the path.
the path which can't be found. only discovered
bell-wort is a hint a small forest flower
hanging lazily nearby a gold harbinger to a grand adventure
the day smells like pumpkins drying after a rain storm. rich earth mingling with warm memories remember sitting, enjoying coffee, reading remember tobacco burning the same yellowed skin spot those leaves crackling under people walking by
why do memories come alive after so many years asleep. like some zombie summoned by Solomon.
life, a dance, an incantation to summon lost things an invitation to remember
Come and save the world That's what people say.
That's the anthem that they chose to sing since I was a little kid.
They put the burden on my shoulders as soon as I could stand.
Come and save the world Is what people say.
With what would they have me do?
They took away education. They took away blame to ongoing abusers. They made it my concern with commercials storybooks and programs to save the whales.
They told me to save the world Then took no ownership of what had been done.
Generations of wealth But they leave me with none.
Come and save the world
I'll try my best.
Sing to me a song of golden sand Of water wheels and boats Of mermaids swimming through the rivulets sing to me of ancient Rome about the world about the people sing me a song of golden sand laughing at the waves
I care about you. More than anything. That's why you let me grow. You don't force me. You don't.
You love me So you let me learn.
It's off – the way the willow lines the ways Sliding along the riverbank Like friends following a snake.
The wind tearing over the river Over the field Over my shoes Making all the little rocks tremble in the parking lot.
Even being here is special.
It's not every day you go to a cemetery. It's not every day the sun can feel this cold.
Yet you sit here and look out on the willows that even now take in the wind and breathe out soft echoing murmurs so quiet but you can hear them.
The laughter of better days Carried on the wind.
Two windows opened One across from the other.
In one house laughter In one house screams.
They muddy the air In the in between.
No neighbor dared To ever intervene.
Who can fix the inside When all actors are unseen.
Are as mad as peacocks Preening different things.
One a taste of wonder the other simply demeans.
art without enough colors. writing without the right words.
ive never been outside and seen a lack of nature but somehow when im creating
things feel left out like this piece of paper could use more
more of me
ive got nothing left to give
What was it That first moved the paintbrush to paper That whisper that bleed through time That feeling that took over.
Smearing all the paint across canvas.
We made this life From all those happy accidents.