Mankind.

Man cannot let things happen naturally, for man is short for manipulator. We descended from apes, its a motion that cant be stopped.

What nature demands, I cut through with my intent. I am a sheath covering the motion of this intent, call it an arrow slowing down through air.

I have no questions no aspirations, for manipulators, the stronger thought prevails. And reminds me, I am a Man and everything I refuse to manipulate will lead me to its natural conclusion, a journey quickened to a halt.

Nature is me, but natural cannot exist, so I settle for the next best, and that is the only that exists - Love for my intent, the source of all my action.

Sometimes, when I cant bring the motion to a grinding halt, the only other thing to be done is to enjoy manipulating its direction and be a Man.

Move.

In love you reflect, Your twin, torn on the innocent wall, Still water and silver, a floating wraith that helps you see as you are seen. An echo and you know, its the little luxuries and some solitude, you ask, but life is a party, and the one you look at is naked, behind his telling mask.

I now see you move, stately, slither past a watchful eye that "moves".

Words

True mockery of the word is in a response that is spoken in silence.

A spoken word,

the halting reproach

trained, yours,

a vault in siege,

and buried secrets,

tainted, mine,

eyes un-wet,

and the nights we met

a burden forgotten,

now to my day of toil

a twig in flight,

and the earthly bound,

one to the space,

one to the sound

I weigh in soil,

and fire to flames,

an explosion, lovelorn,

in my burial ground.

To a Wild Flower

Die ye, die
for the Wildflower
fits not in wild,
like the wildlover,
not in love,
is it acme,
the flower
to plant?
Like a mind
to ye body?
Die wild,
or live groomed?

Die, ye die,
and never
be born again,
to joy or pain,
I"ll shed a tear,
nourish you,
with a pear,
and the wild stump
will live again
a memory
of a scent lost

die ye die.