Sweet is the word I know

You were like a flower in the air

The grass was removed

I planted seeds

I prayed for rain

Bright sun came

The flowers are waiting 

They will return

When the rain comes again.

Try and there is rain

Trying rain

Opens the sky ways

To the part of favorites

Drenched in the rain

Parts of the beach washed on your face

Taking the liquid in 

Through wicked and dim

Some people lose their angels and swim

At the arctic with penguins

Like dreams happen with melting snow

I can hold them and I can let them go

It is always the best time here

As fate has this strange way

As fear fades

Fate smiles and makes miles

Have a look the view is fine.

So why this creativity thing you do Mark? Isn't it kinda weird to be creative?

Now this is how I would respond to such an idiot:

Science could have never happened with out creativity, nor would there be any culture without it.  If modern man is to be better than the cave man this is the reason.  There is an endless heart filled imagination in people.  What is weird to me is the white bread fears that people have, especially restricting things to "Family Friendly" or "Boring" "Insipid" "Dull" and in it's own way: Creepy!

Shift a bit and see

There I see a dream

See what I see

You have seen

A good one

Someday

If luck will have it

Sometimes 

Luck has a powerful voice

And wins.

The pathways that begin when you wake 

Can lead to many places

To many experiences

Surprises from things 

You were just looking for 

Arrives.

Enter and leave 

Only read 

Discover

Then 

Uncover!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKQwgpaLR6o

The lamp shook on the post

The post full of silver rods

The lamp then into his hands

Lit 

Illuminating a door 

In the sand

Under the gold

In the woods

By the tree

With the skeleton.

Never alone

So slow

Slowly in the rotating boat

The sails in the sun

Sunshine

Sunshine

Right into the dome

Where children pray with their parents

Sweet shadows leap onto horses

Waves of violet

Drinks of Crimson Nectar 

Puppets in the closet passing secrets

Engravings on the wood work

Little toy soldiers in wire containers

The boat is leaping

The sun is shining

You are not alone.

The monkey is free

The cage withered away

The monkey climbs the tree

Watching the sea in the distance

The monkey is free again

He is not involves in the world of death energy

He is free to feel and believe

The monkey is free.

Marigolds wrapped in your hair with ivy

Was it a dream I dreamed

Something as fantastic as that

Stripping the trees of leaves

And bark and wood

Till the root dives into the earth

And a light flies to the sky

Everything will be alright.

Sweeping through the street

There are places to put things

In holes in the stone

Perhaps to fall below

Into the sewer

We know better

We think wiser

It is not but a magic river

Full of love

Full of luck

Have a cup?