What do you see in the flames?
Where do you go when the warmth spells your name?
are you called across the distance by the lights
that will burn almost forever
in the endless vacuum of the night?

Because our ships, like blazing arrows manifest from the mind
they travel only in time

They say we’re made of stars
but we cannot reach them
We call the children ours but cannot teach them where were are

And so, if this being is a convergence of secrets
does that mean that
our lives are still only sleeped, its…

that there’s a point when
the mystery in our metaphor draws us in
and our wings or our illusions
which ones will melt first
because inside burns the strength to remake our fate
but there also lies a curse

For while we watch the spinning hands of the clock
pulled by dreams of destiny we never stop

and across the earth or the cosmos or the ladder of ambition
the distances are great
so we increase the pace

but what if
like the center of everything
the heart is already in place
that not tomorrow or after x y z
but right here today
we’re already standing at the gate

looking away, of course
often trying to force
the world to be in line with our dreams
but what does the earth think?

The thing that we are above,
no longer inside of
that the way we burn across shows we no longer know how to love

love

is listening

But if everything is just the dance of elements
I can understand our positioning
If we exchanged God’s paradise to expand what we know
I suppose, in that case, we’ll just have to make our own
from within the race of egos
where it maybe seems that we’re alone
because we only really know that we exist
and then naturally assume that we’re the highest on the list

but is this all there is?

Our thoughts redirect us like Isaac Newton’s balls
and into the war of ideas
we one by one fall
every heart is  beating at the same time
and beyond the shouts and the sirens and the violence
like the earth
each one calls

Which voice do you choose to hear
does it push you away or bring you near?

Sweet Summer child
you left your elders in the wild
and from the North they remember
though the snows have yet to come forth
they see, in the gleaming cities
the reflection of winter

and into myths, with the spirits
they will pass on
to whisper upon the mysteries, like birds, like echoes,
of the earth’s loving song

But here, power means you never have to be wrong
can you see we’ve traded destinies now we’re strapped to the bomb?
and whether its paradise
or somewhere else
we’re speeding along
on the momentum of what it takes to escape the pain

of forgetting
what we’ve lost in the trade
admiring our reflections
in the intellect’s cage

like a ship that was promised to take us to the stars
we already are

creatures of fire
where do you go
when the woods that feed your soul have expired
will you remember too late that it blooms in wild space
that if we ever lost our way between the trees the emerald dream still waits

and stirs to wake

the power

not to control , nor to live forever, or to flee to space

but to see our true shape
through all the smoke we have raised
across the endless chase