Trying to make patience, (with my own hands)
opening; like a metaphor,
grafting skin on broken bones.

Because when your with me,
you become a part of me,
seamless until it's ripped away.

Can I let it all just fall apart?
Can I make it happen now?
Can I want to only want this more?

Feel what is real, how you are, (does it matter what it means?)
AND we breathe, we dream,
in Mystery we become blood and guts, serving this,
Alive again.

Slumped up against you
my eyes are closed
even in the dream.
I see the darkness
And feel your edge
it feels like now AND forever
where I know I am completely safe


I hear the music,
I hear you ask me if I want to dance
And I couldn't love you more
because you already know
That I'd love to,
take this tune and bend my body againts you; to it's will
But I can't.

Letting it all fall into place,
The stars scatter through the space that we reached for.
Always wanting more,
            (Of what? Did we ever stop to ask?)
the way I feel this need to breathe
To straighten my back from the load I beleived,
building our own meanings inbetween the lines
and the lies I conceeded to protect me.

The bird flock around me,
their bodys trusting in the laws of gravity to set them free.
I breathe underwater like I was asleep,
         (flying like this is like second nature to me).
With beaks and tounges proclaiming in new harmonies,
true wisdom escapes me
As what I dreamed alters my concepts of reality

I see butterflys he made for me,
The horizons widen to include these things.
      (maybe if I concentrate I might express coherently)
thoughts fluttering through the depths of infinity.
Waves of power that concieved of me,
Colouring me in;
The rainbow serpent urging creation, "Now dance, now sing",
before I imagined my own responsibilty.
Before I knew how to sin.

*********************************************

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. ~ Anais Nin