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The fence grows like a plant

every day I go to see it

my hands measure its growth

they trail its surface, taking in

all about it, as do my eyes

The fence is warm to the touch

it feels like a human body

carved in wood or ivory

my hands tell of heart beats

pulsations within its structure

How could this be, and in my garden

so full of trite plants, colourful nobodies

this fence arose, pulsating mysteries

maybe even breathing my air, my soul

when I listen carefully, it speaks

one word only: Help! Help! Help!

Mystery upon mystery

while I watch it grow

I long for a view through the looking glass; a sight through eternity. Being trapped in a mundane realm is like a torture, yet a blossom in a faery forest. Here i am exposed to many different passages of the imagination. So many minds come together to create life that i could never. I live off the things people create, and i even wish to enter that realm, but i realize even in this torture chamber faery forest, even the imagination is a dream, within a dream.

When things change in our life, often we have resistance to the change. But if you understand the structure of the Universe, life, and creation, then you will understand that life is change, and nothing ever stands still. Everything is energy, and energy is in continual motion and change. If energy stood still you would be gone, and there would be no life. Change is always happening for the good of you and for everyone. It is the evolution of life

As many may have seen, the world is always constantly at war. Whether it be with guns, or verbal, there is always an argument escalated to the point of social media involvment. As i ponder at the squables of the feeble attempts of everyone trying to say their view is above all, i think to myself "why not both?" And then i stop. Then i realize the same war fills my own soul. "I bask in the glory of light, that i may acheive full happiness and enlightment. Yet i crawl in the shadows, and entwine myself in a web, concealing me from my other natures, willingly and wantingly." I compare this to the many things i love, and group them into darkness and light. Magic, Fae, Moon, Trees, Blood, friendship, etc. Harry Potter, Bioshock, Skyrim, dreams.. etc.. Now how can one be only of light, yet love things from dark? I begin to realize, both are the flipside of a coin. Perhaps one cannot be without the other. The perfect utopia is one of both darkness and light.