A forgotten light

image

Lately streams of rhythm have been

flowing freely from freedom pipes,

A beautiful mind sinking in dark ink

Stitched to the fabric of a half lived life.
Priceless gems stained with a hidden truth

Placed under a boulder

That stretches from rivers to oceans,

And small senic routes to boulevards.

Dreaming and drowning in past aggressive nostalgia.

Searching in a new form other than

Channel surfing; surfacing from a

Self conscious intellect that was once suppressed.

Afraid to speak,

And maybe these paintings on my wall

Actually came to life, maybe I’ve been hiding them from a world without color

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