Clouds above my Feet

keep your socks on,
bless me to warm your bones with this trust.
there must be clouds above these feet,
that relinquish me to see,
the movement and not the meet,
clouds above.
I can feel these soul pulse through our socks.
probably to anyone not much,
but for me, as always right now,
a lot.

there are, I've heard,
plenty of clouds above these feet,
that enrich my eyes to see,
a bringing not for the choose,
quietly use,
another spectred sort of being,
gently throbbing through you.
clouds abound,
we can share the things I think I found.

in progress #6?

It isn't far now young man.
I know it has been a while,
across a strange land
but
you can't get lost if you just carry my hand,
follow the footsteps in the sand.
Appears you forgot your everything plan,
thats okay though
If you want to discover you can.
and its really not long now young man,
I promise you,
You can make this You can.

untitled #7

Well it is not quite faith when you demand proof,
You know You,
so you know what I live to lose.

I was told about an idea of Truth,
a concept not too far removed,
To decide between the takings and the choose.

A simple thought,
triggered to amuse,
that I could live for me,
and not for You?

well now I forgot what is faith,
arrived just a bit too much just a lot too late,
how can I exist in this spate,
of gorish words and sounds,
And a churning mind to make.

The Divine Lie

words it seems,
are sometime given to me.
At the implosion of tangible bodies,
and at the expulsion of personal humane thought or notion,
a little rhyme takes over,
an immeasurable human poem -
that lends itself to that comforting, faithful ancient lie;
My Body is a Temple and not at all really Mine.