114.


wandering to the point of exhaustion
the waves of life toss him into
deeper waters.

I think and I quietly dream often
But the ways of life clamor on my opportunity to be rebellious.

the thrill of being a black sheep
while spending my last week

In a city that’s timid and actually
lacking color that’s vivid dramatically

Like dark grey
Wishful for tides to turn into colorful imbalanced zen.

the beauty of individualism…
the beauty of owning your story.
You realize many things are mentalism,
And your God could easily be egotism.

And, then you suddenly see your prison.

Such a paradoxical existence.

This is no longer a mystery,
My mind creates all things ‘out there’

My mind is a round sphere.
And there are many things in the air;

Trying to burst my bubble,
How about you run to self.

Make a roundabout journey,
And see all that comes from your divine well.

Nature is a way to nurture your nature.
If you chase her
You risk losing her

If you pace her
You whisk music up

And then you shall dance
In the art of love

There goes your high
There goes your drug