My campfire illuminates the scattered stones of the chapel ruin. Conjuring contorted shadows who swell like mighty hands Proclaiming the insanity of the divine.
Tobacco and tea is all I need beneath the tapestry of the stars, I say " good night" to the shuffling cattle and the cantankerous insects And declare darkness as a friend, soothing ,forgiving A keeper of empty promises,
Seeking clarity I have fled to the mountains To escape from the acquisition of things , I need to expunge , to cleanse illusions of the...
The Consternation of conscience, Cannot defeat the ticking hands. Nor the leaking life force from within. So what's left? To defeat nothingness, to grasp the universal void, Or to succumb to ego and the glory of things, The way modern hoovers makes us smile, As if the Galaxies give a flying fuck, What we chose.
Blinded by arrogance or misplaced hope we try, To resolve our internal paradoxes But even, All the elegant words, written on a million pages, Cannot capture simple beauty essence of sapphire petals being...
Oh please sweet spirit child, Take no heed of them grotesque trees. Whistling desolation lullabies, Nor the raggedy stars hanging In a rotten purple sky. Beckoning your name to land of the dead.
Oh sweet spirit child, Look at the crumbling gravel beneath your feet. The wind will blow, the crows entice, And all roads will depart into a contorted mists, There is no memories in these rivers of Dreaming fogs. Only fields of illusion green,