This isolation within the heart has brought me closer to the true meaning of my hearts' journey.
The compartments that I've tipped over
splashing my hopes and fears, a child who goes crazy
in the bath tub never thinks of slipping.
My conception of time revives my face
in the eyes of mercury retrograde-right now I'm direct
because my picture is more defined.
Half-way was before with only grey fillings
and erasure marks over our outlines.
There is an Autumn wind that blows and brings
mystery with dark almond eyes from centuries ago.
Even though it's Winter it comes anyway
and soils my perfect drawing, scatters ashes and smears brush strokes.
This karmic thunder that mimics the Spring,
it's a guise to win you over, to make you think
the concrete under your feet isn't something that you mixed
with your own two hands.You have the grey unknown still stuck
under your nails-the illusion is not even feasible.
