how does the poem
write itself in human mind

Reaching out for great things
Even when they are far
Your hands might be small
But your mind has no bar

Seeking out rare things
May be bright as a star
Your eyes may be keen
But it might be better afar.

if a pleasant thought
enters your mind do not sell
it for excitement

One idea,
To a thousand thoughts.
Some prove true,
Others are false.
Cruel or kind?
Nobody can tell.
Not even I,
The creator of this shell.
For my own,
Are unknown,
They choose,
They decide.
Leaving a complexity
In our evergrowing mind.

Why anyone,
who has seen the eyes of divinity
would ever think that they should leave
whatever space or place or mindset where
they found it, to deny intrepidly that,
without a doubt,
they sincerely believe
that they
saw nothing
out of the ordinary;
no mysterious magic miracle
meant to mean something
to the eyes of wonder
worn by children,
full of mystic revelry;
That there
in this world
with mind unmarred
nothing surreal occurred;
no mysterious light was seen
which no one else could see:
and (hold on)
dismiss that which is in his view of the world which he verily sees,
…and just … look away…
is strange to me.

Why would someone want to leave
the presence and the peace
of creation for some dream?

What motivation could there be to dismiss reality
…for some make believe world…  
that, in which, magic things - do not - exist?

I certainly cannot believe they’d look away intentionally…
Not me!

there is an answer
foretold to all you are the
question and the mind

Your fingers make their way in my mouth, wrapped in my tongue like a gift, digging my waist and softly ripping appart my psyche.
I am unwell for you, too ripe and too ready,
The sweet ache of my teeth holding down my pleas makes itself known
What is love if not ruin

My mind has killed me in a thousand different ways but only you could torture me.
Only you know how to tear my heart open with hello and scorch it with goodbye
Mangle my desires and bleed me dry.
Only you could make me believe in snow in July.
For a taste of your love I was prepared to gamble my pride.
Maybe you would have known if my words were not a scramble but you never did try.
My heart has been broken a thousand times but never like this, and for what?
I can't even call you mine.