angels and trees 

every bush n heart that shows a reason 

its the flood of a constant flow 

its the wonder of  pulsating souls 

Its the geometry of Stones 

the freeing laughter of a home 

its the first sun of the year 

the fullest moon that doesnt fear

the mercileness of  jasmin and youth 

the immense and tense realease 

the dripping cheek

the un casual Way of grasping ones breath 

reflecting faces before disapearing into the night 

the hearts to big for the chest and the fight

veins sink in and drain the tide 

utterly humble the mutter the lines on the face 

filling it with something way  beond mediocricy tied around 

their wrists as their feet are tangled like the amazon river bench side

we know we as humans are passing like a long dipped afternoon tea 

cold, damp, bittersweet in the end some would pretend 

we cannot

i see poetry in you, in all

Our chemical despotition

A summer blizzard sweeping us gently away

We breathe the same air inside a foggy window 

we love beond measures

Autumn was a heavy lover 

scents of autumn leaves and calm in the roaring sea

she prints hold under the sun and your cracking heales are healed

she heales your life and stand you by through strife 

everything vines out of the dusty drawer

Death turns into another life 

Desär into dessert 

desire flows alongside the lost year of solitude 

So i shall not speak

nor whisper of this love 

but keep it dearly 

keep it close as in a deep trust 

It was love, it is strange, it is still beond

 Aai the wind is sweeping away 

A Bird without Wings fallen from the sky 

everything is a reflection of something 

its all in our eys, mine, yours 

we can only grasp splasches of time 

oh how laughter rumbles our foundation 

Being calm and still 

we have a roof higher than a normal same low note 

Nothing is permanent....so shall one let go? 
i have no way  of avoiding its grips 

I realized its to forever to hold on to

As a soft happy sun of never having to explain 

Its just is 

I conceived by the poet in me

bearing all these words of intriciasis of our language

all this evolving in me like a pounding revolution itself 

how do we speak our why when we are oh so quiet in this

the mere thought of  light to a bulb to newtons theme

the mere thought of all coincidences   

Is your cage cracking open like mine?