Like the rustle of the wind in the leaves, the echos from the heart, home calls from within. The Spirit of a Child. The spirit of a child is a fragile thing. It thrives on freedom, but requires boundaries. But needs the nearness of a parent. The spirit of a child is a fragile thing. And sometimes I wonder why God. Should have entrusted each one. To the care of such rank amateurs. Did He not know we were barely free.

A fear of The Fear. Unknown to me that I could be. Free of worries that have crowded me. I sat there praying for my safety. As the wind scraped my face and my body. While sitting on a machinery. That was said to be of no safety. In shocking view of my reality. I realized that Fear was just my imagery. It had no way of knowing my ability. And therefore I broke my dependency. Freedom replaced the Fear in me. The Motorbike Freed the whole of me.

Soundtracks on a Road Trip. I was the screaming current of Baffle Creek heading toward the sea. Feeling the rain, feeling the headwind and the dizzy illusions of adventure.

My heart has been broken. Though this is nothing new. Letting feelings continue to brew. This one goes out to all those who took my heart. It all started in high school. Falling for an innocent girl. Every action, that of a fool. Trapped in a cycle of love and pain. Thoughts that could not rearrange. Cheated on, abandoned, ditched with debt.

The sometimes poetic ramblings of a berry in the wild. Words are shining, shimmering, skating by. Jumping between cars and dancing in side views. As i follow the bridge across my river. The sun streams across my shoulder,. Threatening to burn with her passion. As i chase and grab and cup,. Catching my thoughts like fireflies. I am barefoot on an august night,. Soft grass beneath emerging stars. Nothing makes sense as written,.