A tender whisper to the infinite horizon.

 

She shells dreams, like peanuts,

and smoothes them to butter,

giving sustenance, and sating hunger.

She sells wishes, for no money

just a handful of words softly muttered,

giving hope in a flurry of syllables gently uttered.

A tender whisper to the infinite horizon.

A snowfall of magic, a gentle drift into sleep,

a blizzard of emotion and a heart

that wishes to leap every time I lay my eyes

 

on her.

 

She is a magician that brings life,

for she is a mother, a daughter,

a lover, a fighter, and a carer,

and her heart is the bearer of light.

She is the brooding night

and the dancing dawn.

A swan on a reflective pond,

butterflies

in the middle of summer.

The warmth

in bonfire sparkles,

She is...

Fate in blissful sighs.

And I would give my eyes

to see only her rise across my skies.

 

She is honey, a sweetness

that softens any bitter taste within.

She is fire, a wild passion burning into skin.

She is special, above any queen or king,

she is beauty shining down a sun on me.

She sweeps on the wings of song,

and she plays every instrument

in an orchestra of one.

She alone owns sound,

and I would give every penny I own

to listen to her sing.

 

She sails oceans and soars skies,

she sits in verse and words of advice.

She is continually there in my mind,

and I wouldn't cleanse my head

for I love the visions I find.

She is magic, a spell cast on me,

a spellcaster like a dictionary

of all I wish to be. A thesaurus of love,

infatuation, desire, affection, devotion.

And I will give up any wave of any ocean

to sit and feel her waves roll over me

as I become one with her majestic fluidity.

Take me home

 

Take me home,

I feel so alone,

the fear swallows every scream

as it leaves my lips,

falling,

birthed into

the alien landscape

of hot tarmac and cold concrete,

a stone

against soft skin and hard bone.

Sensory overload,

this rock called Earth. This new home?

 

And I crave the skies.

To be the light

I remember in distant dreams,

I want to soar, as my roars

lift me high...

higher... higher...

a rising vocal line,

through a clear night.

A sigh turned into song,

a story of becoming...

 

Human...

 

Don't let these dreams fade from me.

 

Don't let them die with me.

 

Don't let them nourish only the worms,

 

when they can seed the earth in stories.

 

Take me home, I still plead,

for my creed sits where

the seas are crystalline,

purple shimmering under neon pink skies,

and the city skylines are carved from the

mountainous storylines of our kind.

 

But to claim anything other than life

in this new hope, is to push away

any chance of happiness,

and without happy how can you cope?

 

Don't let these thoughts live only within me.

 

Let them comfort and hold others near.

 

Let them sing words so clear.

 

Beauty lives, if we look at it with open eyes.

 

I am just a visitor, as are you all.

And I won't claim that my mind doesn't sometimes

climb the umbilical cords to its mother's womb,

the alien world from whence it came.

Escaping into a fragmental rain of past and present.

 

We take the fall for others' diseased minds.

Instead let's find and feel

the kindness in the heart

and enshrine it with the

candles of shared history,

twin helix ladders to another sky,

where the seas sit crystalline.

Topsy-Turvy

 

When green springs love

and red swears envy,

when the tides roll away

and sands of time flow near.

When the air is tainted with fear,

and the grass is blue, saddened

by the topsy-turvy view

of a world torn in two,

the loss of hope in

anything true.

 

People cried that the sky was falling,

they said that time was coming

the end of the sentence, the lack of sense

in a lopsided existence,

the loss, to ignorance,

of a world of innocence.

But now the fat cats

are singing their screeching tune,

and it's all coming true. Yet you all sit

silently consumed in your own apathy.

 

And when the sky cries

in silver rage, and fire falls

instead of rain. When children

call out, dying in pain,

to a war they didn't inflame.

A war no one asked to fight.

When the teddy bears' picnic

outlives the meal of life,

then the world is flipped upside down.

 

Yet people don't shout,

they just keep on watching,

eyes glued wide to television lies.

 

And heaven can only frown

as the demons sing on the clouds,

and the people sit and watch

as the sun hides behind a silver moon,

and still, they are not moved.

They shout instead

that there are no more miracles,

but the life we breathe every day

is miracle enough, I say.

 

So put away the greed,

put away the bombs.

Flip the enemy

to become loved ones.

Turn down the envy,

the need to consume.

Turn away.

 

And live.

 

Live with every atom

in your soul.