is it me or is it you…

is it me or is it you…

If my light is blinding you,
Please look the other way.

If my warmth makes you sweat,
Go stand under the rain.

If my smile is too large to grasp,
Go find a smaller grin.

If my words are too bold and bright,
Go talk to someone dim.

If my walk makes you nervous,
Then you should take a seat.

If my talk makes you anxious,
Stop listening to me.

If my eyes are too starry,
Go look upon the sky.

And if, then, you still think of me,
You should ask yourself why.

a stone-paved road…

a stone-paved road…

I want to see the cracks in the stones that have been there for hundreds of years.

I want to see their depth and dried up tears.

I want to be the one to notice the flower poking out from the long-time broken slabs.

I want to walk across the cracks and slabs

and feel the presence of my grace.

I want to leave a trail of little pieces of me.

I want to leave a trace.

-Not to be found

-Not to be crowned

But to show another way.

A way that blazes through the broken bits,

that were never really broken,

without hesitation

down a stone-paved road that leads to your destination.

Taken by night…

Taken by night…

I wish to be taken by the night

to let her show me what I like

let her spin her web

through the gaps between my breath

and listen to her whisper

as I get warmer

lingering deeper into her depths

and let her take my hand

and spin me til I’m spun

plucking the words from my head

one by one

and watching as I come undone.

I wish to be taken by the night

to let her sweep me into the rapture of intrigue and delight

let her take the lead

and dip me in the dance

and listen to her whisper

as I get closer

falling deeper into her trance

and let her guide my eyes

and show me what I like

stripping the limits I’d once seen

sight by sight

and watching as I turn to light.

I wish to be taken by the night

to let her show me what I’m like

let her take me for a ride

through the depths of dark and light

and listen to her whisper

as I get nearer

riding into where twilight resides

and let her shine my light

and teach me hours versus moments

Enticing all of my wishes

bit by bit

and watching as I become all of it.

Must be the reason of the witch…

Must be the reason of the witch…

We will walk with the many or the few, on the roads that were given no names.

To dead-end streets. And cul-de-sacs. And loop-de-loos.

Off of highways and off of beaten tracks and down every dirty path, we will ride the yellow lines as we please.

Be it swerving from lane to lane, or running barefoot in the middle and in the way, or bumming a ride in and off to the side.

We will ride, we will walk, we will dance but not hide.

We will call out your name just as you drive by, and when you look back we’ll be sure to disperse with the dark of the night.

To places unknown, perhaps roads unseen.

We will follow the signs of such named roads, only to tear the last bit of them down, and rip the posts from out of the ground.

We will ensure to never follow or get swept by those forged signs no more.

We will walk across pavement and soften or shake it, we’ll crack it and break it and then we’ll remake it.

We will make our own signs and place them where we please, or maybe we’ll toss them to the hands that wave with the breeze, or we’ll send them in bottles out to the seas.

We will ride as fast as we want, or even just as slow.

Speed has never been an issue, because we are the pace and this is our show.

We will hold out our thumbs, but that could all be a trick.

Upon unknown roads with names that only we would be told, we will float and we will linger and we will never show you a way that you could ever call quicker.

Be it up-hill or down, or straight across or all around, in circles and through round-abouts, we’ll show you the way.

We will walk with the many or the few, or we will walk alone or we will walk with you.

You decide, you follow the signs.

But only if you’ve ripped them up from out the ground, and are following the rhythm of your very own sound.

The one that beats inside of your heart, found on the road or out of the lines or inside the lanes or resting between the window’s panes.

We will run across pavement with all of our toes.

Over painted tracks and little stones, on all of the roads that have ever or have never been known.

Upon all of the roads that were given not but a name, we will walk along them, and they’ll never remain just quite the same.