Was hast du mit meinem Herz getan?
Ska Maria Pastora, an amazing yet terrifying trainride into the universe awaits to lift me on high and higher still until true sight needs not the eye.
Today I spent a lot of time writing on guitar. I went down to the beach and wrote the second half of my current favorite poem...here it is; transfigured and reborn.
Scientific Notation
I'll trade my reality for fantasies, please. Two drops for a buck? That's a steal of a deal for me. I'll trade my diamonds for flight with dragons sailing 'cross the night where no one comes and no one goes. The cement is melting into mush as all the laughter melts to hush. Don't push or shove, my cap is lost among the grass and growing moss. Brushed aside from that I'm fine I find and I'm still finding loads of time to dedicate this expedition to my longing; a lifelong vision of stealing what cannot be stolen; those moments whose frozen image is golden.
We'll slope and scale the mountain's trails to melt back down to snow some day. The blistered grass and cackling wind rake my hope with force ten gales of piecing breath of fearsome storms (I'm trying to avoid of course) but finding time to find a dial to ask me if the sun is scared; as hail whips and rips through spaces in and out of my wet hair. And it wont stop until the wind drops and drowns to the soft sound of laughing, children laughing, free around the park below. While on this hill I find the time to find that I will never leave this hole.
It's my journey for love; my dreaming for drugs, it's all about our heads and toes, but no one comes and no one goes in Puttyland, where daydreams grow. And they bloom like flowers, warm, and colors swirling in and 'round the norm. And when I find I've found the deal is done; the putty's dried; the sun is dipping behind the sky, as all my hopes now come to naught and even heartless statues cry. They weep to bring the last few rays of sun to light the isle ablaze that burns through the night and into dawn; just past the grassy hills and lawns and up and over the hole I lay in; which gives my thoughts a place to play in.
They drift alone and far from home within the normal realities; but then again I traded my diamonds for these glowing fantasies. And on this isle, a pool is found, where mud and clay well from the ground and harden into all these dreams we find the time to seem to need. And as the wolves and spiders seek those moments ever desperately, the palms are chuckling from above and mock this foolish need to be alone and locked away inside myself, to arrage aspects of me and juxtapose them on my shelf.
So as I find this buzz is fake I see blue spirals begin to shape and form from the clay that molds itself from the well on the isle and the aspects of myself. They whorl and whirl about my head and guide my eyes to a new light; inadequately described as 'bright'. A blinding beam of energy takes form on the hill and caresses my face; as I find the time to find I never wish to leave this place.
But as all waves at some point break,
and in time all faultlines shake,
my purchased drops will soon wear off and all this knowledge will be lost. Lost among the growing brush where all the laughter melts to hush; the laughter of the children here, free around the park below...
While on this hill I find the time to find that I will never leave this hole.