Compilation Excavation

Ever find a coverless notebook, that carried your pen-hand across the infinite one night?

Life:
An endless, breathless, aria,
Of passionate,
Silence.

An endless sighing moment,
I held my breath for nothing.

Everyone is a beautiful dreamer.
They all want to tell you something
Important, before they forget it.
Listen, any, and you might know them.

I have known such a joy
At being alive, a flavor,
That I shall never relinquish
to the ever passing eons.

What a silent picturehouse
Of wonderment, creation is.
Let us drink it to its dregs,
And relish the bitter
aftertaste.
Such, is our birth-rite.

Be you a Leviathan,
Or a painted paper crane,
You are allowed to be.

The grace of audacity,
Just to do it, and let
The wonderment
Come to kiss you;

Passion, is the silent
Language, which moves
Within us all.

Yes, give me more rebel truthseekers,
And scarlet sunsets.
I would walk the Earth,
And count each step amongst
My blessings.

Come close, I might
Show you a
Wonder.