Sebastian Sandok

A fellow of mine once told me,
that the seas magnificent ballad,
was sung in a Minor D.
And oh, how the gales fluttered,
...

A perplexing labyrinth of understanding drift through my head,
So elusive I can never quite paint their shapes,
Thoughts induced by light that roam into the late night,
Mere illusion cast against the caves wall,
...

Take my hand and let us run.
For my heart is but a poorly stitched kite,
and you…
you, my dear are the mighty gale,
...

Moments tend to pass without us taking much notice,
-woshing past, giving off one last beautiful farewell call.
And by the time we can comprehend,
yet another has passed on its way,
...

There is something incomprehensible
about sitting at a desk
after a week long, seven day
sojourn into paradise.
...

I walk in the middle of the road,
Foot for foot in between perfect parallels,
Contemplating whether it is,
The celestial aura of the midnight sky red,
...

If I were to ask you to define blue,
what would you give me?
An answer perhaps, a weak precarious definition
you may even possibly take me on a quest,
...

Its funny,
you think someone would have
kicked me out by now
or at least said something.
...

I’m back, but not for good.
I can swim, but not very far.
I will still write,
...

Did I by chance leave the window cracked,
just enough space for a cosmic body to slither through?
For it seems as though a cloud has crept into the room,
unhurried through the panes,
...

A lost sense of adventure in the world makes me tremble…
not with fear, for I fear nothing
but with lament for the fizzle of experience.
So I sing for all the old explorers, the heralded ones, the valiant few;
...

O warm light on a winter’s day,
may you linger and keep astray,
darkened songs of woods gray,
swinging limbs and trunks a sway.
...

How can one not be but content?
For Life, be it what it is, is nonetheless—Beautiful.
Yes we ponder, ask our purpose, question our reason.
But always come to the same, same old answer,
...

I had never meant to find you,
For hidden in all the shades, of all the worlds,
Deeply tucked away was your beautiful hue.
...

This is to the Mountain Men,
And the mountain daisies,
Please Do not stray while I be out,
Along the trail.
...

Leaving is the best part of arriving.
For to leave one place,
we are only to arrive at yet another.
To die is to be reborn, methinks.
...

The institution in which we infinitely dwell,
is far to large and much to vast
to confine all of this living world,
imprisoning every single last one of us,
...

Out the door and down the road a ways,
dreams tend to roll over with morning cirrus,
frosting over the ancient silk roads of the Himalayas.
...

Is it merely a matter of time?
Before ships will splinter upon the stony shore,
Between nights final breath and mornings evenflow,
Will its terror echo through out the land, writhing the souls
...

The sun shimmers upon my face as I loaf below the Cedarwood
I ask, what will become of the man
who will not become of himself
To embrace eachother as if we were droplets from the horizon dew
...