I make the promise to always return to the other side of the mountain. Eternally, I cross to the far river bank. But to which side of the river and to which mountain valley will my promise remain unfilled?

Who is the master
of such paint and plaster
and who settles his seige
by his worth?

For wisdom and laughter
don't always come after
the artist has envisioned
new birth.

My love is not a game.
It is a lullaby
that rings sweetly in your ear
the meanings that my heart has wish to fulfill.
I don't know what I don't know.
But I don't fear anything.
I don't know what I don't know.
But I can't face that now.

What happens
when breathing stops
for a day?
When the intoxicating
sweetness of life
without air
clears your head
for the first time?
By holding my
breath I know I
must die.
Quell the existence
that I have always known.
But what would I
want to live for
if I can't have this
moment forever?
Walk with me for
a second.
Dream with me
for a year.
Stay with me
for an instant
before I breathe again.

Dragon

Is this how the dragon feels? Contained within her cage? And when she leaves her lair she becomes the black dot moving throughout the land?
Is this how the dragon feels? Cut off from her home. Not daring to go out for misery's disgrace amongst the once familiar land?
Is this how the dragon feels? At once completely whole, now a part onto herself, only in her mind.
Is this how the dragon feels? The frustrated passion for life quelched under a misunderstanding both personal and trivial, aware that if clarity could only be known then the world would again turn into the fields of sun covered dew?
This is how I feel. I feel as the dragon feels.
When I wake up in the morning, will the world be set right? Will the vision be whole? Or will I find myself again in my cave of damp and dark? Will I find myself again as I am today?

Why, says the butterfly to the flower, do you taunt me so?
Why do you use your beauty and your grace against me
only to help you grow?
Why should you use my graceful legs and fluttering wings
to further your intentions?
Why should your beauty only be used
to further your own aspirations?

And so responded the flower:
Does the earth ask the sun why all it does is give?
Do the fish ask the stream if in it they can live?
If all the world did just one thing--to look out for itself,
Then what of beauty, glory and goodness would be for us that's left?

I am

While you are a polished amethyst, I am an uncut diamond.
While you are a farmer's fresh plowed field, I am the open hills.
While you are a river and a lush, green bank, I am the ocean and her embracing beach.

So while you fit perfectly into the life that you have chosen--while you may look to all the world to have the answers--the peace and serenity of a choice existence, just remember that life is more complex than that and the potential that I have within me is far greater than any facet can shine, any field can reap or any stream can travel. Though my edges may be unhewn, my terrain rocky and my waves may crash, of me there is no counterfeit to be made, no fence to bind and no dam to stop.