stumbling to the top of everything beautiful
oh yes, i do love this life
my trees are still missing, sweaty palms and grass-stained cloth
but we make it do
and I am here
satisfied and grateful
for these cobblestone streets
they provide the flights to the lands of youth
never stuck, but always moving
i am an explorer, musician, artist
contented

Come those months, there will be some nut-punching. nut squeezing. nuts ripping off of.

HEELLLLLL YYES

creator, builder of clay, the free spirit, mind, going back to the earth, bare feet, broken shoes, grass, trees, sunny days

To want, and to wait.
I don't want to wait.
13 weeks to wait for
And I'll wait for you

Before the mount, there was the desire-
spectacular tastes of the tidy and gentle kind
where refreshing blows push against the winds of time and place
and i become whole, complete once again
but the folly is mine, because that cannot exist.
and here i am as i am...here
contrary to the salty dreams i once dreamt
this place is a hole, a mess to get buried in
i didn't escape, but i came back to what once was
buried in the fashionable heap.
but there is a way to find the desire of the refreshed
and it comes through with the effort of patients
the clock ticks 123 like the body it moves
and to develop into the complete once again

I do miss the joys of home.
But here there is a history to love.
A place to raise a family,
cultured and rich.
Not of the New World. It seems too old.
But of the past to make the present a beauty.

Do not grow. You would keep the world from me.