Again, sit the two (RAMBLINGS)

1 light of who had won, Shutting mouths with tape, told this talk is dangerous when youve spoken of truths outrageous and yet for the gravity of knowledge to pure minds is done.
Now who are they, we wont speak of them again. Instead liken a lover to this yearning inside, to truly grasp the essence within. Ive started to begin this, but its like daggers to the grind, going against all taught in society, erasing chalk of children with outburts of thunder and rain. Even then i cant subside.
Crossing the paths that are covered with thorns, led to a dream that had tables set, demonstrations to some here, was a reality for them...two animals in the wild, one tries to conform, the other a tiger, inside, cannot shake the natural fires, burning inside him to run.
Searching. like a prince to watch these creatures go provoked. The same eye, that watches the crowd or the poet, with muses in his clouds, until all proof of illusion is revoked.



So lets get deep in life, beyond race, age and time..those youthful gleamers in my lovers eyes do shine

lending sparks to wonder and i do sigh. a sigh of the beauty by my side.
In my arms.deeper into it all, in a place only some find, a moment at the core, fires burn, without words spoken, dreams take flight, and no self images constrict.
A birds flight is effortless
Like he flow of the ocean while swimming.... pure bliss

There
feeling this play, bringing passion, no delay.heighten senses disembark, gather my wits, keen as a shark.
tighten body, mental to, breaking through through landscapes tried and true. Setting the curtains to fall down casting the blue.
The sky will be the audience, with flattery so new. Birds champing, yet patiently yearning for the moments sun can come down, remove all indifference to others, theories of clowns.
So you speak of immortality, the fires will burn, nonchallant reverly , your mind can churn. Churn it will, until understood and gone beyond. To find the play that was written on the edges of mountains, and casting its light onto ponds. Ask of the playwright, and with lips sealed, one child will utter hes gone. Removed yet not throughty, but unlike a saint, hearts arent where its kept. Deep in wonderes depths, scattered glimpes of ocean floors, show its innocence. There hes revealed, in that flow of a place. inside lifes hidden grace, where immortality, shows its face.

passion needs burning and lighting, set my flames desire, calling down lightning.
what paths were chosen, needed not be taken lightly. Except when treading through swamps,and shores alike. footprints alive with water, and sand. Newly soaked body from diving

Passion went diving today, digging deep into everything real and new
Of this I happened to stumble upon a grace, i hadn't known ever before.
There stairs leading around hallways, and doors opening this way and that, Taking you in and around the atmosphere
until you never want to come back. What happened to me i couldn't tell you, but of the feelings i could make a note.
In no moment does my mind ever seize the wondering, and pearl diving in this place. To go around full circle, with a victory smile, for like astronauts and divers, the deepness and unknowns penetrate space..but whats known and found is here, its called a passionless grace, any word of ts power, could change how one sleeps and wakes
constructing such mountains of fire, to burn through fear like a razor, Those dream night skyscrapers can be anyone's for the taking, and where they belong.Looking up from the sky, things make sense,

Passion went diving today, and it constructing itself a play, to lovers prancing on fields of green, that were switching constantly from tints of green, and blue to red ,and grey.
One wet from the love pool, had everything they needed to know.
the other made themselves.

You see my mind was enraged, with ecstasy crashing down..after that dream I realized how id been depraved of everything bright inside,now its ready to come down. Lights had turned to cobweb filled library, and castles filled with empty halls. Somehow the curtain was lifted, and all that i see could fall.With the dust and velvet curtains , turning bright green like fall to summer, cold to warm. For all the passion in me did long, to be expressed in prose, like words of a song. To this i hold a toast, the passionista does live still again since nothing has changed with each passing moment of the wind. Only the sphere that gazes through, the images that are seen. Turn around the immortal like leaves circling a tree, lingers and takes in each meaning.
I feel a echo of a light again, the night broke hell, and deeper to fall. To wake up in paradise with fields so long...to lay face up in a boat all cloaked in white, to wake to a world so filled with fright..there was a shadow of smile that was mine. A won deres fire did burn that moment eternally, and yet there was a passing of a cloud overhead, that left my mind empty and the devil laughing. For that was me , how could you speak it, the angels had lifted there heads so high to save. Out the poet goes to the mountains so high, to be free of the mental battles that keep him enslaved. Lose my touch never, the muse always has her ways..starving me outright to the farthest reaches of the earth, then dosing me, thus saved. My shipments have left me betrayed, and to a spark of life, that sacrifice was gave.