A Conversation

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I look into your eyes–you stare
I find an irony somehow
In everything about your face
But I push that aside for now
I ask you of the life you chose
And is it working out so far
Behind the tired rings you wear
All the bitter nights have carved
Colors tell the story well
Though you simply shrug and laugh
But we both know you’re not yourself
And maybe he will not come back
I look into your eyes–so deep
I ask you if you have regrets
You slowly turn your head and speak
Whispering replies in breath
“I wouldn’t want to say it’s good
Or claim that I am glad at all
For how it all turned out–or could”
But then you lift your head up tall
“I know that this has cost so much
I know I may appear unwell
But heaven here is hard to touch
I guess I had to go through hell
It doesn’t mean I’m scared to burn
It doesn’t mean I don’t look back
I could have walked the easy way
But I choose not to think of that”
If all the sleepless nights were stars
The galaxy is in your look
If all the tears you cried were words
The lines across your cheek are books
I look into your eyes–you stare
I find an irony somehow
I see you every day right here
But cannot seem to search you out
And when I think I know you well
Or when I think you’re feeling fine
My mirror finds the truth to tell
Your tired face is just like mine

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Dreamland Renegades

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Five acre smile
Under backlit sunset braids
Did we set the world on fire
I think we might have
Burning up
‘Til there’s nothing left to save
Did we catapult the moon
I think we might have

Open roads
Counting fence posts on parade
Did we think we’d never fade
I think we might have
Overbold
Plotting midnight masquerades
Did we think we’d get away
I think we might have

I took the wheel
Like all the world was ours to steal
Every golden flake of cloud
Tucked away behind the thought
We are real
Chasing colors like the blind
Call us dreamland renegades
Much too perfect to be caught

Ready Or Not

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Summertime dreamers
Wintertime love
Drinking up starlight
Waking up God
I could die perfect
We could die young
Tied up in angels
Ready or not

Still

Although, within my heart
I must concede
I have no cause to hope or feel
That there is more
I love you still

Although, within my mind
Quite logically
I have succumbed to what is real
I must confess
I love you still

Although I cannot speak
Of all I dream
Or ask for all to be revealed
It seems to me
I love you still

Although you may be far
It cannot change
This certain passion of my will
I had to say
I love you still

The River And I

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The river and I go side by side
It runs, though I, content to walk
Am in no rush, though tossed about
And ever turbulent, no doubt
But less intentional in stride

The river and I, we both do long
To find the sea–the open deep
I feel my path will longer be
For I am less at liberty
To chase the places I belong

The river and I have much to share
The downward path we both pursue
I feel I fall but never rise
And dashed upon these rapids white
The fate I find is rarely fair

The river has more voice than I
It has no fear to speak its mind
It gladly tears the earth apart
While on its path with steady heart
It makes no stops and forms no ties

The river has more force than I
To cut away at standing stone
Its lonely goal by soul inspired
It runs always and never tires
With naught a thought to quit or die

The river knows not how it moves
Nor does it out of malice roll
It merely seeks its distant love
Relentlessly at every ebb
And presses in, around, and through

The river and I, we both know well
The destination of our call
We know which way we need to go
Though how to turn we may not know
And what may come we cannot tell

The river and I, though without words
Walk side by side along the bank
I long to run as does this friend
But how I fall and how I bend
Has broken me in shattered thirds

The river and I have parted ways
It perseveres while I digress
Returning to my former lot
A life, a day, a time forgot
With sentences I long to say

The river and I will both go far
Adapting to our circumstance
Perhaps, since I am not allowed
The river will reach you somehow
In freedom on some distant shore

Midair

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The bullet pierced the breast in flight
In plummet, life has traded light
For darkness as the feathers fall
It never touched the ground at all
But somewhere on the journey down
Relinquished fate and slipped away

‘Tis better to be killed midair
Than caged upon the ground in bars
Or traded for the songs you sing
Without the use of heart or wing
I would much rather die in love
Than live as though it’s not enough

Painted Vessel of Passage

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Skin, oh the falsities stretched over flesh
As a smile, or a laugh, or a wish
Twisted in foreign hieroglyphics
Subtle nuances of portrayal
With which we deftly parry
The thrust of probing questions
Or misguided salutations
But skin is not what I am
And this boxcar bears no resemblance to the passenger within
Merely a painted vessel of passage
Oft’ the canvas of a graffiti made to fade
A forest, blocked by trees
Or, perhaps, a tale that no one would believe
That is us
That is me
Beneath