The Great Drowning of Men

What is the third degree in the hierarchy of things
Sounds from the sidelines taunt the parade of the vanquished
Like watercolor seascapes in a hostile world
Awash
You become slow cinema
The art of life within the savage struggle
The ordinary to erotica transformed

Dreamcatcher
I am not those men
Everything you could want
Love is oft times a ruin of roses
And I'm a sailor on a sea of dreams

Do you prefer mysteries
Or do you know the secrets
The truth
Imagination is more real
Its hidden in plain sight
Life is but a waking dream
Ah, the wisdom of folklore
There's a hidden beauty in these things
The old ways
Scented like old books
Signs and symbols
Powers elemental
Bound within the hedge witch's ladder
Or a clootie well's trees

As a wise Master builder
This isn't a farewell's ending scene
This is the chosen scene
The beginning is near
The dawning of everything
What do you know of six

Godland
Magic square of the sun
Defenders of the infinite sky
Blind faith and ruins are the altars of ascension

Knowledge is Illusion

I need to breath grey dawns
Where mists pearl the lawn with dew
And autumnal leaves afire
Sound like rain
Rustled by sighing winds through trees
Greens, wildflowers, the back woods path that wanders
A stream's meander, and stepping stones
The scent of honeysuckle and pine
Distant hills rising
Shadowed blue

I've my Eden, fall with me
Lie awake summer nights in a hammock
And whisper the wonders of heaven
Falling stars and wishing stars
Live the thirteen months of the moon

Wander unplugged and in tune
Sing to me the song of your heart
In simple things
Rainbows endings and haloed moons
Speak truth where there is no need of lie
Poetry indeed
To me
This is love