Over hills and countries I know
My mind could go,
Not free but assured of the flowing tide.
Growing, ever growing, to take the wings
That creating bides.
Lingering twine of sanded minds,
Carved wood masters, waxed wings,
Feathered heart’s foe.

Where to go?
Turquoise tide of love;
Wicks waxed yet not so bold
To sow sands away from tides of flow.
Newton would say “no wave and warmth explained.”
Yet this feeled thought brought us here,
Protects us from the reigns of rage;
Creates the hearts’ jewel,
Grown the sage!

It fell, long ago,
the cross is not sacrifice
But sacrilege, an ill and winding path to Rome.
Sun’s season bear witness, all’s perfected
And man should only have cathected
That which is kind to create.
No destroying kilotons
That belate
With one
Mistake!

To this sordid boon so great
To risk a kill greater
Than any mind cares to relate.

Love and loving, hate and scorn;
Waterbrothers lose stake
If others choose to forsake
A system over any other,
All men must now decide their own fate;
To cast aside is no escape.
Surrender now to the one who would belate.
All rest comes together from inaction;
Love and joy have to be the only faction.

I always wanted to see freedom away,
Away from presidents’ orders.
The green that turns people mean;
Never see the true life…
Always having to pay for the flight.
Should not there be another way to stay
And be called sane?
Seems to me there is the way time calls a sage;
But is it fair for the ones in hair
To die upon the stick.
Can we not change what’s been today
For yesterdays’ tomorrow

The Universe cannot be improved;
It is sacred, that is true.
Man must be improved.
He is corrupted by the sword, never could be true...
As sons rise in birth, in love arises
The stirring of hearts, only crying when needed.
Yet the grown cast this as evil.
The child loses the own to be “grown.”
Love lost upon parents anvil
To cast fears, a razor thrust.

Replace love with ritual they scream,
Faith and hate the same.

They’ve lost the tears to see themselves being cruel,
Even to self love lost so many years ago to ritual:
Oedipus could always bear fate,
Now, can we allow this to become “innate?”

Yet we make no move to change our fate except when power rules:
Can not Watergate show us fate, our would it be called hate.

We must learn to grow without hate:
Know that all are waterbrothers to be gentle
Ne’er the time, never hasten and never late.

Learning curiosity, passion enough to create
All that love left undone.

Fell the green, the true trees live,
dying without strife.
Misfortune comes with body,
So will you adapt, create
Always love, do not hesitate;
Never hasten to make waste,
Nor leave any task undone;
Experience yesterday, live for tomorrow;
Act today,
For all this reacts to the freedom of love.