In the light

I am the world between the setting suns.

Instead of looking through
I aim my gaze ahead.

I burn the eyes of morning
and sleep in the arms of the shade.

I lie on thoughts forgotten
while my silence breaks the storm.

Follow me as I wallow through the depths of dawn
I will lead the way and gently feed my conscience with the surreal inseminations of my will.

The overlapping flow of your faith may finally bring your soul to rest.

Please revive those who we thought unremembered
so that we may finally again begin to see.

the thread

weaver spins the threads

weaver spins his thoughts

weaver sees it upright

weaver learns to play.

We rise like the scent of morning,
and weep as the day unfolds.
We lay on our thoughts forgotten,
and pray we can still uncoil.

From the dream,
from the wake.
From the shades inside our head.

We believe, we reside.
We're accustomed by our rage.

Understood, half-recalled
we alone decide to fall.