Dox-para an da'll misconstriction Holobeingasane Inlight ningbores ascentofelia Marksma nede ulsang Inas impul eysorm alstrom evero ki...

The child prophetic born has fate woven in their nerves and cannot help but sing when stuck and be moved by voices all around by tragedy...

It is not I think The suffering or whatever It Is I feel So much as the nature with which I feel it It is not end I want but Change A...

If I wanted to talk About what? my art meant I wouldn't have made it If I knew it enough To explain it well I needn't have bothered at All

For years in one fragile spring tine Making clear the the fonts of my heart "Love me" In summer, exhausted instead Singing songs of home...

When I was young Between and between A foreign land was sleep And nights were spent in quietude Bathed in the blue light's hue Selling me...

Thoughts are questions are Too fast for days' ancient pacing Living Ten thousand maybes between each call's Unanswered hand in the night...

Up and down again Rising up on strong winds and lovelier wings even odd that the crash too feel new Each time Reason and Memory and...

The story was beautiful Tragic comfort in meaning I played my part just so yet lived If you walk past the end of history you end up off...

Then all that remained Alive in the halls of that home Were the flames Shadow plays and echoes I house them still Tenants warm and...

Falling I think The groundlessness and the sense of speed I felt since before I fell from my first bike I used to speak to you Like I'd...

Did I think the day after That time Moved forward? I must have believed I could leave one step at a time To put it all behind me Playing...

My feet took me onwards My eyes inwards And I cannot say when the soil became sand Or how far I have gone I would not know even how to...

Writing writing writing just notes staff and sheet Dead already as the leave the page That words are a prison a melody's mold Why then...

From time to time As drops of rain across life's length A breeze low cool and swift Takes up the eyes To bacchanalian creation Unveiled...

The door to love cracked first Through crooked smiles suggesting secret lands and hidden truths the faewild yet unwalked ever after...

4:30 gloam is unforgiving reserved for fighting ghosts haunted halls of memories and still born dreams The stones weigh heavier, before...

For everything a season has For planting and for tending Growing and resting, tilling and reaping The rhythm of rain and sun A patient...

Release Freedom Letting go Nothing is lost but perhaps I have gained a foothold in myself

Poems merely hands outstretched towards divinity hanging laurels on blood and beauty Cathedrals to memories Epitaphs for another time...