Oh nightengale tail splayed like feathered fans across the arc of the watercolor sky,
was it you that lead me nightward, or did i lead myself? For I have been traveling the solo path for two long, I have lead myself and others have tried to interfere, but for the fact that I know who I am.

If you are out there, I love you, and I mean that like the mist that rises in pink dawn. I mean that like the wine bottle travels on seas in curled journies to deliver a sodden message to a destined discoverer, i mean that like a mountain means itself, i mean that like hope meeting fulfilment means happiness, and i mean it like i mean it; sad, sullen, somnolent, vivacious, burning up with all this dry garbarge people call wealth.

If you are out there, please answer.

Love,
Steven