We Left The Wind

What would I give
To have your kiss?

What I would give
To see the world.

What would you give,
To see me again?

What you would give,
To have nothing.

Is that not what you made me?
I was everything.
You did not see.

The Ruins

The wind wrestles the waves, rocking a lonely ship.
The tide created, will never touch the moon.

As sly as silk the wind dove under,
All her pressures captured below land.

She fought to become an anchor
To the only ship accompanying devoted, swimming waters.

Two forces, which battle and serge.

Silk, like ribbon will tie their hands. Interlocking.
Nature beats, arising a storm.

We'll come in sheets.

But chains rust the defeat.

Lucid Under Sunlight

The yellow outside casts shadows,
Each step I take sounds a beat.

I aim to be a plane silently swarming this Earth.

Fate has only given me one shovel,
I'll dig on my own until I begin to descend.
A simple symphony to leave my fossil within the land.

A sweep across the bend, and nothing feels more secure
Than the grip of the wind.

I have tossed the key to the home I have come from.
Empty handed, I walk. I kneel. I seek.

Surpassing the limits of reality,
Like blockages in clotted arteries.

Nature leaves me with new eyes, every time.
I smile and thank the trees for sending shivers down my spine.

The Lonely Roots

It was a place,
Where our roots mingled.

Like oak trees overgrown,
with benches in a shaded park.

Petals of our budded flowers,
Tracing circles on the pavement
Pushed by wind..

You're roots have
Started to dissolve.

I'll take up this place
On my own.

With the space you have left empty
For the sun to shine...

Detached in Imagination

Rolling waves, and staggering seas.
Wind being inhaled and exhaled out of me.
Fire twisting, igniting burning light.

Stars and planets to look up to through the night.

Thoughts in broken pieces and loss of memory or explanation.

All I feel is a pang. A sting. A burn. That continues to pulse through my entire being.

Taken up by beating sorrows captured in my heart.
Unwilling to let go and be released through my brittle veins.

A pen in my hand can't move, a thought in my mind can't breathe.
An eye in the dark cannot see.

Demand to be shot through a forest and lose your way home.
Contained with useful actions and communication.
So you won't have to think or learn
Just how to bear
everything you want ignored.

Im outside of my body, detached from the world.
And I am incapable of giving you an answer to anything of what it is in the world that is certain.
Or what is real.

The whistle of the wind, being wind.
I wish it were a friend.
That could tell me just what I am.