Like a Chrysalis in Time

 When convinced of one reality, 

Such that no other reality can take place...

That soft light, oh soft light, finds itself trapped 

Languishing amongst the leaves

She has passed that last corridor

Of forlorned memory

It isn't that hard to find beauty

In the simplest of things like love and truth

Give yourself wings

Fly into a new oblivion

The world is not all contained inside one slumbered eye

Just as you thought of cerulean whispers

Love lies caught like a chrysalis in time

But always somehow returns to that warm and familiar place

You make your own infinity or let it go  

Everything can be taken for granted

—innocent hearts, 

drowned like a waterfall,

or a seed left to grow 

 into rumbling silence. 

Make way for the inevitable revolution.

In the Latest Headlines

A bull stormed into the china shop

Leaving no piece unturned.

What was it seeking?

It never really said.

Rose petals were trampled and 

Love letters never read.

The ink had barely dried. 

At least that's what was stated 

in the op-ed. 

Infinity's Glass

As ages pass,

white frosts glaze our view.

Thunder rolls in the distance

—in shadows love lingers

while hate waits, poised.

Mountains are frozen statues,

eagles grip the sky with iron jaws,

veins pulse in the neck of giants.

A great fire blazes in silence

—and now the signal to be lost in chance,

shedding fear for hope,

soaring above clouds crystal engraved,

shattering into a million shards

of infinity’s glass.

Midnight Stroll

 I stroll the ancient streets at night and feel the echoes of old footsteps

My heart is like a strange ornament of love

My mind is more magnetically aligned toward the untouchable

As precious petals of love are unfolding at midnight

The stars shine on in rivers

There is a lake filled with rich jewels

I wade surreptitiously

There is a world within a world caught in a cloud

Where reality blends with make-believe

As I open my hand a vine extends upward

Touching the stars

There is a whisper in the streets

As I reach a dead end 

A vision is revealed to my third eye

With mystical pleasures

I realize I've been kept away from my dreams too long

And now I'm following my heart to reveal the secrets of shadows

The end game of the universe is to become like a flower unfurled.

I eventually disappear lost beneath the moonlight's infamy

Tiles on Sea

It was once said that

Blue is the color of ecstacy 

My dreams are full of the lush moss of trees 

The world is seemingly frail

With every touch it grows more purple

This vortex of self-consuming entropy

This menagerie of distorted mirrors

A female visage is blowing a soft breeze by the ocean

As the morning dreams itself awake

The seasons are meant to arrive like angels

Let the curtains unfurl themselves

As cotton as the nights

Like waves resembling tiles on the sea

I was never born

 The cardinal rule of existence is found in levity.

Are you cast from spirit or

from somewhere nameless?

Love is shone down in mirrors.

The grass is full of roses

where silence understands us all.

We're looking in the card catalog for answers

which evade us.

The willows sing enchanted songs.

Each vine is a psychedelic eye

on to which visions are ineffably born.

Heaven can you tell us a story?

It never seems to snow there.

The moths are untouched,

as white light circumscribes the landscape;

they're leaning towards flight or glory.

Do not speculate on that which has yet to pass.

Do not fear heights or immovable objects.

When your time comes sit as still as possible, as if

 you were never born.

We're always thinking of somewhere else;

we're all just waterfalls.

Archetypical Moonlight

A double Helix extends downward.

I am traveling through apocryphal time

just in order to find you,

through neolithic hallways of extinction.

The golden compass points North

into the great chasms of wealth.

Its stairs are prisms repeating themselves.

The stars in the sky are eyes.

I idolize the sky endlessly.

The rhythm of the wind informs us of the weather.

We are alienated by time

as if finality were a single destination.

I evaporate into dreams.

The milk of fountains inebriates

all the white trees.

A trail of tears 

drowns our countless lives.

The question is of emancipation.

Another dream 

springs up in nature

 divided by twilight.

Essence is the secret,

said the moonlight,

the magic of seekers.

Go and find the gold

in the petal of a sunflower,

in the arm of a sun,

in the center of the womb,

in the claws of terra.