On the way back where?-ward,

the tree's bark disfigured me out,

formed lips that mirrored my breath,

I wonder at what depth's do my words sink in

and what signals they send in the flurry of smog jogged by reaching lungs

with growing and constricting tugs inconsistently nudging another message of vitality,

visibly, each viable, even after leaving the womb from which they are birthed,

felt not within these eyes of mine,

though at time's they are reading me,

meticulous in the way they trace my lips

which trace scripts added by old odes,

to those muses the amused the muses,

thank the who creates wonder for shocking a soul with beauty- of a form,

a lover into a willful showing of surrendered heart and spirit,

and kindred relatives hatch from seeding ideals,

growing within seeding idols,

planting their will-

in your heart and our world,

in our world,

if you are mine and I'm am yours,

we are a course on a corus with no end,

in our mutual world we need not pretend,

what ever movement the world makes,

if it seperates our wakes into deeper wakes,

and we disipate in different states,

My death in vapors and you live statuesque ,

for above my tele's veiw, and telepathic blues, 

hue misued by the numbers who-

like moths to a flame-

one day my burning heart

will be another's guiding light,

like so many were to this bugger who utters silence,

with each passing night,

a star fills the sky,

with life comes a dying wish to be fufilled,

let it come