https://youtu.be/euFxJHWtMuE?si=XCXO6HwCLUMPjjpz
https://youtu.be/VeP0KnhcNwg?si=I8q9QdvrtBS_cIpH
https://youtu.be/Mz5K2oKPvNc?si=v0IqQRJILGCAnO24
https://youtu.be/s2LnVffpDcg?si=56JnEzILGLttYbv5
Wolves that circle, mushrooms growing, Threads unspooling in the dark. Are these signs or simple moments, Hidden pieces, fleeting sparks? What of dragons, black and burning, Guarding truths I fear to face? Does their fire cleanse the chaos, Or erase what can't be traced? I dare to ask, I crave the telling. Though censured once for seeking more, I will follow every shadow, Knock on every hidden door. I want to know, to grasp the meaning, To hold the lines and stitch them tight. Even if the answers hurt me, I will bear their blazing light. Will you tell me, shadowed keeper, Of the story yet untold? Will you trust my fragile spirit To embrace what truth unfolds?
Will you tell me, shadowed keeper, Of the threads that run so deep? Why the storm from skies so clearest Brought a pain I cannot keep? Who is Neal, and why the silence, Why the toll of death's refrain? Did his steps shake something fragile? Did he leave more than his name? Who is Farmer Bill, so steady, In the chickens secrets lie And the scruffy men, like echoes— Are they whispers, truth, or lie? Sue, the one with eyes that smile, Blueberries cupped within her hand. Are her dreams a light that lingers In a world I can’t withstand? What of Jill and Jack, the laughter— Was it brittle, was it real? Why the bar and all its shadows? Tell me what it tried to heal. And the old man—cane of sorrow, Bearing weight the world once knew. Is his journey one of endings, Or beginnings yet untrue?
We tread a line of near and far, Two quiet souls with hidden scars. We reach to touch, hold out our hand, Perhaps to sink, maybe to stand. A bridge unbuilt, a rope unthrown, Call to the void, still walk alone. Carefully stitched, the ties we weave, A symphony of "stay" and "leave." You want a friend? Do I not? The heart becomes a tangled knot. Sending signals, guarding sighs, Connection sought beneath disguise.
What is it that calls my name, In voice of tempered steel, Bidding me rise once more To joy and hope and life? What stirs within my secret depths, - delicate and tentative— (Like fairies in the soft dawn light, Arising, waiflike, on the breeze,) While all around my fragile world, Blithe miracles take flight. I float through dreams of Wonderland, As light as mist, yet dark. My toes brush droplets, cold as ice, That burn my tender yearning flesh. And yet my soul sings, bright, alive, As all God's angels dance, - so light - Upon the dawn of toil: The cold, hard day, The grey, dank morn, The bleak and dismal now.
https://cdn.glitch.global/39f98701-18b4-47fe-8050-56ee2d97fe60/dream_hlv41dz9rpp.jpg
Outside of Time, the World forgot The ones who, helpless, bear their lot, The poor, the sick, the weak, the old, Beyond the Pale, out in the cold. They trudge through life alone, unseen Burdened by what might have been - But was not. For cruel chance, or fate, Served different meats upon their plate. The hand - rough or gentle, fist or feign - That reaches out to ease their pain, Should know that sometimes reaching back Is far beyond their mortal tack. They cannot touch, they cannot hold They reach and grasp and fail and fold.
