I got home on a rainy afternoon,
I had planes coming down the sky, on the sly,
behind my back so to say --

-- cause the only thing my mind was saying, singing was the blues "Returning Home"

You know, maybe, if you've been around, that whenever home is nearby your soul flutters, like the butterflies of chaos theory //

one thing leads to the next but changes what came before, in ways of perspective,

// but I reckon, after careful consideration , that the willow leaves might have gone, that the wind carries the call of white bears, roaming

of crows crowing,,
of whatever we found out there that speaks in words we can't grasp,

the essence we lost but search for with diligence every day even though we all meet the moment when giving up is what the revolution
// -- is fighting for -- //

No mix of words or music or even dreams

(or the absence of them)

can ever describe the meaning in being right there,
right there where the rolling stones and cosmic wheels make homes /
// where the reach of the Great Magnet lies behind the sky
& Ground Zero still long times away -- //

See you, hear you, see I..

Questions posed and forgot in a offhanded way
/ we realize, too late or in time never held the answers - /
-- / not the one's we are asking -- /

the realization of how souls and energy are one, in a away, cast-aways lying on the shores, the lushious lands
where poision is easy bliss, the way out
/ -- of whatever we wish to be real //

the play, the game, the order -- chaos himself, yin to yang.. holding on, ramblin away - while white coats paint the walls with healed-up scars

&

... perhaps not to close down but to explore // outside, inside, inbetween, at every side of normality looking out ...

&

.. blow up the foundation ..

Those who have reached the end, the last step, the finishing line all sense in an instant how a schock, a physical thing, not stopping, not holding back // -- just there .. is but epiphanies and the speaking of tongues who were the legends

// -- from Before... which you know,

.. you know, deep down, are the words that might not describe you,
still witnesses -- one's forgetfulness inside because of regrets //

// -- you hold in your heart -- //


(and this is a Gentlemen's Club for the one's who believe in Tuesdays and Weekends with hope)