The Architect & What’s Missing

It is hard to accept that we’re all looking for something that lies within us. To be completely patient with self, and in no rush with you – Together, someday, we will arrive.

“This conversation is missing your voice”

I am trying to keep myself out of harm, I just have a little untamed wild in me. It’s all open, and windows placed so that the light shines through at those hours of the years. Of the year. They inhale and exhale for a moment in the year. Sure enough they do arrive, they arrive, and if you haven’t read William Blake – Well you might see them go at the rate a book fallen from the shelf hits the ground –  I’ve seen at the pace of paint drying, the crawl of the tide back to the mouth of it’s mother, steady as Earth’s axial precession. I wouldn’t say stalled; But I’ve fallen to sleep and awoke with plenty still to admire. Rarely is there an evening that goes by where we have it too quiet.

I bet you are as smooth as this bourbon and bite just like the vinegar – Sink em in – On the tip of your tongue I want to swim, behind your teeth, I’ll know just the direction you’ve chosen – Towards open waters

One who thought he could swim the harsh seas without drowning,
Have you drank enough off the ocean floor yet?

Some people might try to build a home in ruins. They like the tall open ceilings, and the big windows that let in all the light, the tiny alcoves for reading their books, the craftsmanship and all its’ inspiration. It’s intuition; Engaged and in motion, they can live, they can explore with no sight at all! Those who trust their eyes closed will always see more.

Tired, but I keep going. This is all I know to do, I have reasons to believe in you – I’ll be right at home for you

This was never about four walls