Form

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Vision draws shapes of beauty
Imagined treasures
Of flowing lines
Between eyes and heart

Bound in want and need
Have and hold
Until death…
Destined to always part

Into shallow sight all will fall
Depths rarely seen
In blinding form
Rise to betray a heart

 

 

 

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The Demon Within

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Never far from the surface
Dwelling in the past
In dank dark places
He awaits a sweet repast

He does not have a conscience
No sense of right or wrong
No limits to his anger
Forgotten for far too long

In rare times of weakness
He ventures to the light
Savage destruction is his goal
Vengeful  damage is his delight

Finally seen in the daylight
Naked in his truest form
Slinking back into his lair
After feeding on the storm

 

 

Virus

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I am this virus I will not spread
Of wild abandon living in my head

I am the secret inside of dreams
The memories that make you scream

I am insanity you fear and dread
Without reason you chose instead

I am the voice, visions you have seen
The thoughts, that of what has been

I am, I am, I am, and I am in your head
Because I love before life’s dread

I am only this and have never been
And I am the one on which you lean.

Stoic.

 

 

Paths

 

Until my last breath
My last gasp
I will be here
Trying to explain

The simplicity
We have lost
In the mêlée
We maintain

And to say Adieu
As I go from here
I will shed no tear
As I will see you soon.

 

Stoic & Buddhist

The Final Step

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They say I am an odd one

Never fitting the square hole

Dismissive, and done

 

They say I am disconnected

Alienated to the world

Maybe mentally affected

 

Yet I am only this

Seeing beyond the words

Never a detail do I miss

 

And I love this world

Never so connected

The foundation unfurled

 

Every moment

I live to the last

Never did I own it

 

I used to see

I used to know

I used to watch

 

A simple shift

From watching

To being

 

One step

Forward

Now I am

 

(Stoic)

 

 

 

 

 

The Finding

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Never seeing the loss
The saddest of all
Never to recall
The deepest cost

Left in childhood
What children know
Left as we grow
What we understood

Maybe we fall
By chance or fate
Maybe not too late
By Grace we recall

Instead of finding
Maybe turned around
Instead of life’s blinding
Maybe we are found

Stoic