The satisfaction from Becoming free Comes from becoming free from Satisfaction.

Dystopian Tale Scene 1 Ever since I was a kid, they’ve told us about a book that will change how we think about life. They wait until your 20th birthday. I guess they feel like that’s the right time to tell you. And for me, that’s today. …

Sometimes, when you’re out climbing poetry, you get stuck. You climb, and you get to the point where you can’t go up and you can’t go down. You get stuck and regret not telling anyone you left; you regret leaving the ground. Sometimes, when you’re out climbing poetry, you never come back.

The silence, echoes, There, and off in the distance, Ceases nothing not.

If now, an infant moon appears, And faith will take away my fears, No pain will come from light! Savage creature in the soul, Is seeking fullness not the goal, To wax and wane at night? Rings the melody of a thousand moons. Beside an ocean made of gold, Our father’s legacy is told (Who lifts us to his height). Beneath the tomb of every man, A gift in life it was to stand, To use an earthly might! Sings the symphony of a thousand moons.

Just let go, Open your sails and let the wind take you. Figure it out as you fly.

The astringent gel of time Leaking on concrete meadows Again, in the rain. Wet lilacs hanging off the High-rise edge of Manhattan towers. February, March, April, In the dusky evening, Bleeding out time.

Must I sink to dream? With but a lease to flight I’ll rise above the scene, Deny the fleshy thing In this debate the world, cruel Earthly world! Angels dangle by, Pampered pant and sigh, Are forced to wing the sky. A fleet of geese they dive In this release the world, clod Canvased world! Cupid’s arrow flings. It darts me ‘mid the flight That lightly tranquil brings; His passion spurs my dreams In this assault the world, rot

Digging for meaning in the deepest cave; At the lowest point in the world, I’m digging for meaning. The earth is mostly lava, molten core. Where am I trying to dig? Where am I trying to get to?