Love is legato

Marching onward, thoroughly ensconced, imbedded in the karmic flow, the lighthouse, the furnace, the crucible, The Universe giveth and taketh away and I offer unto all and unto myself and take away... absorbing, radiating, incubating, don't lose yourself, as you answer the call. Take care of the source. Transmit and reveal and revel and rest.

Dissipation Of the malaise Separation From the daze Emancipation from the phase Liberation from the maze Alteration Of my ways Anticipation Of greater days Contemplation Of her gaze Humiliation Through the craze Saturation Of greater days Maturation Grief and praise Excitation When she stays.

To forget To leave behind To empty and prepare To clean and dry To wash the eye To not ask why To let it go To forget I know To live on to dare To show and care To breathe at last To leave the past To say good-bye To look at the sky To place and apply To love and accept To live and protect To give, not expect To know, no more To let it go To wonder no longer To choose for the stronger To continue To continue.

Splintered arches thick and lush with ivy-covered brick who are you- an invitation, temptation a bit of the unknown I must question the charm I feel the sophistication of fantasies it must be determined the depth of this thing if it is real or imaginary right or wrong these prisms of time always seem to lock me just a few, blissful moments, off- one way or the other like the mime who shows us his box which he places his palms against to demonstrate his inside-looking out.

To hover forward into the unknown to refine anything in need continually and everlastingly in pursuit of lucid perspicuity and technique that affords fluency spontaneous and instant - likewise direct without obfuscation or diatribe a whittling away at the incessant urge to whittle until finally, ultimately something is accurately expressed and clearly, helplessly understood a panacea of meaning and expression in conglomeration- facilitating comprehensibility affording an attempt at unconveyable truth- inconceivable absolutes that elude us by virtue of our very own apparatus with which we attempt to ascertain them- the dog and his tail.

The equine, bovine blocky forms of matter which brutely lumber without trepidation what can be stolen from that mode of life? to be and to want to be are the same in themselves life, encumbered can be life, empowered a strength cuts through the oafishness and grace can be cutting like an edge all the sad faces keeping to themselves must it be this way? seems silly not to grapple allowing death to steal your life away- like a selfish child with a black hood- silly death- who do you think you are?

Whispering wisps steam in cold, crisp air shading and revealing breath breath that grasps for more but knows not what to grasp for a softened brow during hardened times dreaded reflection, allow things to pass at their will without question of authority- permit me to acquiesce to that which desires to change me.

From certain angles of light, shadow, profile a glint of beauty from others- indifference seeking platitude and isosynchronicity constancy, boundless but presently changing into I know not what but I smell the breath sweet with desirous aromas- intoxicating my imagination and causing lichens and moss of lament and cool despair to grow upon the vessels and chambers of my glowing chest thumping rhythms of asymmetry seeking, desperately, patternings of familiarity to restore much of my lost capacity for grace and sublimation.

Forward on these broken bones which pinball bounce and ricochet no rhyme nor reason to the roll and on again, no time to stay and cataclysmic fantasies of futures yet untold do creep into my naive dream the journey of my soul the idealist soon put to bed and put into his place and scorn the mountaineer who said you mustn't win the race so faith I blindly place on air and hope on my own heart which propels me ever further further, on from my start and who will stand with you? and who will need you? want you? know you? with whom to share the jaunt? in the end, 'tis none other, always than thyself company of misery pleasure of pain from philosophy and commentary I cannot refrain and they will tell you, "no, you can't" and they will tell you, "no, you won't" yet you know the difference, though it's value - you don't to wear one's own countenance burly, brisk and stride is revealing inner strength and only you inside so shut them out and let them speak and trust just what you know and look not elsewhere for those things these things so hard to know so forward on these shattered bones the hits, and rifts, and jolts and be true to your inner force it is all you have the only thing that belongs to you wear it well - come what may and always reveal your greatest effort and the world shall receive you.