Time loves

I want to sample the discoveries

born in arbors

beyond what’s in your mind.

S.O.S.,

subconscious obsessed sex,

the mighty change in plans

that bears all fruits of adventure

and the Dragon’s Breath

breadth-of-death.

We are but by-products of

the bygone saints who

didn’t make it into the Bible

because they were too busy

swimming with the fish

upstream,

turning their backs

to the tinker milestones

quick enough to make

our would-be ancestors’ eyes

roll out,

“Ludicrous beliefs!”

A whole damned world

of makers

and hiders

and holders

working on masterpieces

so near to you,

and you will -never- hear them.

We are people you may know,

but we may never truly be known.

No one could ever provide

the recommended care

and mercy

and no one is up to that job.

Surface success is inevitably

superseded by truth.

Time loves you

and a good stretch.

All moments leave room for regrets

and the words you unsaid

repeat themselves daily

in the mirrored affirmations

of our lives,

side-by-each,

but forever alone in our

Fair Trade Dirty Heaven Garden.

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.

rotwork

"If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space." - anonymous

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