Mediums Use Wavelengths and Channels
The aperture of the curve is the inclination of the incline,
The apex being the nexus of complexes and peak highs,
Intoxicating middle ground, blend in and let go,
They all know, so do you, so show it like you mean to flow,
If they don’t go, then sleep under a lean-to,
Don’t be obscene, be true; Know!
Need to light a fire, the thatch roof over my head,
Is leaking fresh rain, upon my mossy bed,
Sleep less, less distress, less stress more blessed,
Digest the days in ways that take plays and keep things that should stay,
Away with it all, head underground to Wonderland, without a sound you’ll understand,
Proud now and a Man, not even loud, can’t pretend,
Defend it 'til the end, on it I can depend,
It’s my oldest friend,
The Little Ghost that heals and mends,
It knows the most; its voice makes my mind bend,
Feels like confidence, power mature,
I find it in my mind, or behind my ears,
And have always tried to in the passing of years,
Even being reminded of the many shed tears,
And the long march of time and our old, tired fears.
