Have you ever felt not at home,
the one that feels alone?
Have you seen the other side of a dream,
the under side of its meaning?
The longways we have wound around our selves,
as spiders spin their webs.
We are lush with confusion.
Perhaps doing the right thing is out of the question.
I’ve thought so, for so long
And I lack the disposition for suicide…
I have to smolder in my thoughts for all the ages of my life.
It takes a patience,
Something not learned, but born.
We are natures gift and curse
And we love it so.
So I give attention to my dreams.
They speak in cruel numbers.
A calculation that lacks a solution.
Speculated attainment of truth, my love,
A perversion at best.
We are all God’s children, aren’t we? Aren’t we?
No solution prevails.
And I love that. I find solace in that.
Goals are gold for fools who seek achievement.
But why busy yourself with the toils of man,
For that truly is God’s work.
Trouble your mind with the fears of God.
Perhaps then we will find the answer.