Usually I’m sitting, folding into space

Other times I’m thinking in deep void

Silence praying even in sobriety

Words are simple glances into the past

past I hold.

Dreams everyday I dream in living

Dawn has spoken, birds have spoken, I have not.

Logistics, thoughts of fear, adventure, unspoken mystic

even when i speak, i am a forgotten lily in the field, withering inside

so ill fly away for now and come back when you’re ready

freedom cometh only when you let yourself be free

She once fought blood and gore on the battlefield. Who can know her story?

A man once laid in bed for 8 years, a wife feeding and mending.

She died of disease. Grief.

Daughter, daughter, daughter you were only in your 20s. You lived on. Onto

lands of mafia, blues, piano sounds tinkling, german poetry, silence again.

Stop this history.

Stop this history.

Start with me.