golden springs
seek
those showers of loyal
followers

gaze in the valley
of
absolute denial
of worshipped responsibility

You are that gazer
You are that walker, of fine walks
across the desert sands looking for
this heaven of mine
which I call, simply,
golden springs.
Lift one-
Lift two-
Lift no more until
you see to it,
that you revive
that thing which you once called spirit
that thing which you once called faith
but the lord has no home in the golden springs
only tiny print, tiny colors of blue, red, yellow......
rainbows in a sense.........but no archs,
archs only give way to confusing riptides
through our enveloping journey.

Are their grasps so important, that you will
run?
run to them?
but where will you run when they stop?
for you, my heart, will not stop...

gaze into those shallow eyes of them!
what do you see?
nothing!
nothing but a remnant of what could be
what could be done
what could be said
what could be painted along the evening sky.

Pick your brush.
for your turn is soon-
pick your color
dont worry-
true faith doesnt fade

but what about this heart of mine?
will I be able to grasp it when the time comes?

tall trees litter the plains, as they dwelve further
deeper-
the trees face you,
the eyes face you
the applause is silent-
what will you do-
how will you fair when they all leave
when all you are left with,
is this golden spring-
will cry?
or will
you fly through the night sky,
across horizons
of wasted moments
wasted temper
wasted laughter
and most importantly
wasted desire

Golden Springs will always return
so I urge you
I urge all
find your golden spring
find your rainbow in the
last teardrop
in the last
storm

Why is rain so beautiful,
when Im hurt?
Will the helping hand
be the striking hand?

I will remain,
a rambler
of the clouds
forever-
Travelling through painted portraits
of visitors-
of golden springs.