I frequently ponder

the newly found places

within me,

Dreams of a future self hastily

scrawled on fragments of

Only the storms matter,

the ones that violate my calm.

We perpetually emerge from the

shadows of previous moments,

I shed the cautions of

social order, opting for

disdain—

Blood simmers to lunar

pulsations, expressing the

lineage of hard-earned

perspective—

The sounds around us

are ever changing, an infinity

of origins—

I have no discord with time.

Not like you.

A quantum convergence would

best describe how I know everything

Chiseled dusk shadows stretch

across the stench of uncertainty,

Parting ways is my cold refuge,

heading nowhere, away from

My meditations often induce altered

states,

Inseparable in

those younger days,

we'd skip on our 

friends opting instead

for worthy dares, 

each one ending with

a mutual offering 

of in-each-other's-face 

warrior roars, your 

fiery red double pony 

tails whipping mightily. 

I’ve never heard a

nightingale sing, but I

know where blue

bees hide—

I'm a thousand leaves

drifting down from ancestral

trees—or perhaps an impetuous

storm deviously tossing ruby

red seas blazing beneath

erupting flares of a lunar

super corona.

Barefoot mage,

breathed into life by

the sapphire seas

of Arythaena Pri.

Who would be so bold

to claim me?

I am a shadow walker

of the ancient ways—I

have no beginning,

nor shall I end.

By Earth I was

risen, though Sun sets

me free, and Moon

rains stars into my eyes.

Unruly cloudburst

pummels the esplanade,

Out the door at 

sunrise….