Down the avenue, under silver moon

I head for a blank page

For a love that’s true, In the vacuum

Of every endless face

Like a bubble forming around deceit

Like a carbon copy of a memory

Like a ricochet of the words they speak

Like a story telling on repeat

I feel it out

Slow Grower

I keep it in

Until it’s born

Like the dead embrace of a lover

Like the peace coming after a war

Its playing on

The cry of liar

And the slamming of the door

I am waking with it’s closure

Sweat relief I feel no more

The flesh of the anger

When woven to a metaphor

Is a little less in the fist of a father

A little more in the books on the wall

I’m a flashing glimpse of beauty

Like a dragonfly in a sunbeam

I’m the falling tear the willow weeps

For a moonlit fear of mortality

I am the ever itchy underbelly

Like walk within a cemetery

I am the river running underneath

I am the white flower with the golden beak

And I’m chaos in arrangement

I am freedom under rule

I teeter on the edge of derangement

Like a child at the gate of a school

I’m a sure thing, what a mistake

I’m a natural, what a fool

I am the longing gaze

Breaking from an archaic pool

I’m a proud slow grower

Im within until I’m born

I am the embracing self lover

For the crying of a war

And I forgive the name of liar

Staring at the sealed door

We were joining with it’s closure

Sweat relief I’m yours

And I echo

In your chamber

With recognition

That occurs

While swimming in the pond of a stranger

Then drowning in the eyes of the world

Swimming in the pond of a stranger

Then drowning in the eyes of the world

Swimming in the pond of a stranger

Then drowning in the eyes of the world