She is he,
and he is She.
now lost, loves heart.
A stream flowing through the old oak tree is still alive.
The heart of the forest (wood which has lived to long it is, unexpected obstacle, this living log
and complicated cover which I lowered)
i must hide it) lost in it(s mind..
and try not to offend those..
whom are so much... more smarter..
and so very deep..as I sleep...
You ask me what am I thinking when I look inside you
and you see me looking through you, as if I thought.
And how in the beginning, it was a point of issue in
From the center of my heart, your many lost songs.
From the heart of one single tear.
I am lost like you both apart, one is beating.
Gone from our gentle childhood.
i want too die a simple death;
still i can not but tell..
battle field or hospital...
and when again i look..
Wherever you are..
and now you're afraid..
A little eye not made by man.
All woman seem to have.
Available to none our honey bees.
Clinging to my window butterflies.
A spell, a well soaked rag
sits well and nearly out of reach unless.
A spell is when it's open dirty, but is closed.
Oil soaked around the bend the elbow is.
Huddled poor the masses, did you say, not I.
Whirlpools hide the dragon and it's eye.
Needles would I thread upon one point.
Before the Gavel falls, I'd hear your allocution.