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

 

 

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)

 

 

 

 

 

What Matters

 

Why can we not begin each day as if it was our first?

Why do we carry, a dead past forward?

That is gone, and this is this

I greet you anew, as you do too

 

Past never was

Only now

Face to face

Matters

Healing

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A sigh revealed

Too long covered

Virtue and sin

Melded to one

Earth and sky

Taste of life

And knowing is

The return of love

 

 

Land Of Dreams

 

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courtesy of : http://www.designstack.co/

 

Nothing is, as it seems

Veiled and false

In this land of dreams

 

Beauty covers pain

Deeply hidden

No one is to blame

 

What you may want

Others become

Farther from the Fonte

 

Cut the subtle vein

The horror within

As life yields to pain

 

And awaken, please

From this play

You have the keys

 

Stoic

Some Tongue In Cheek

Flower

 

Every time that I smell the blossom

slowly opening my eyes to see

the soft pastel colors, the subtle fragrance

moist droplets of dew, beckon me.

 

This night flower that opens at twilight

makes me rise as the dawn greets the sun

my lips gently brushing, to soft rising cries

lie entangled, embracing as one.

 

(Stoic)