I can feel young as any young person.
We love ourselves too often and need reach out much more often. It is a social responsibility and it effects the environment also.
What do I think my my muse wants to say..
I think she like pointing things out, but not in a mean spirited way. But she would much rather not point things out, she would rather do other things.
So Mak what could you say about your muse.
She(I think it is a she) is a far better writer then I'll ever be. I even get jeolous and possessive about it, yet I am not at all sure how it would appear if it took physical form.
From 1-10 how important is my muse to me when I write.
Since she often does all the writing the muse is close to being a 10 in importance.
Poetry with out a mission.
It does not need one. Nor does it require one. It does not need to be the language of the heart, nor a way of making a point.
Yes this is...
Wearing an idea on his head
The idea
The idea
Winter has come again
Landing into summer
ECHOE of laughter
For long ago winters
Hiding tears
Summer is midwinter
Lovers in different worlds
Reaching across roads of rivers
Touching hearts with marmalade flowers
Still an idea has a special power
Shimmering on the waters
Healing every minute
Of every hour
You.
The idea
The idea
Winter has come again
Landing into summer
ECHOE of laughter
For long ago winters
Hiding tears
Summer is midwinter
Lovers in different worlds
Reaching across roads of rivers
Touching hearts with marmalade flowers
Still an idea has a special power
Shimmering on the waters
Healing every minute
Of every hour
You.
Someone said the universe is a boat.
Boats are not symmetrical in any way and are over man made. If that's a metaphor then I get it. Boats explore and drift around.
Clouds surround as I'm coming down
TO lift you up into space
Because sweet dear
You have my eyes into place
As years drift into days
Of mountains
Of snow drift
To sing out the pain
But now time is running
Time to make it rain
Since love is kind of funny
Wrapped and served on silver
The electric dancing waiter
The fancy walking table
A dream in slow then fast then slow
You say goodbye
And I say hello
You feed the moose
I'll feed the the goat
WHILE GOAT IS HAPPY AGAIN!
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