the free man craves to be led by the hand
while the slave wanders in dreams the lay of the land

i pray not for my mind for it is already lost
i ask not for forgiveness as i now know the cost
i crave not the content of a soul at ease
i will not give my heart for a brief moment of peace
i pray for those whose brains i have bent
i give apology to those from whom i took without consent
i yearn for happiness in the innermost of those near
i bleed what i can for those who are willing to hear

the man in the middle just wants to be alone
the man on the outskirts begs to be let in your home




...





sweet aroma sea foam cerulean slyvan and brine
sand wind ragged cliff mirrored sky and tortured pine




...





the sea is blind
the wind will not hear
the sky cannot feel
and earth will never fear
the heavy footfalls of fate as she climbs and corrodes in graceful endless procession, trailing in tow bleeding broken hearts, lost souls. a somber parade she leads, a curiously naive and hopeful dirge parts her lips and splits the ears of those who are willing, able and vain enough to listen, to open wide their ears eyes and hearts.
they like the rest,
like me, like you the worst and the best,
led to her wondrous ship that departs,
that leaves with no wake and no hint of crest
in its infinite onward toward forward quest.




















random goodies.
































ae.