We all tell ourselves stories
some might be true
some might not
but over time we believe them all
reacting from past creations

I know you miss me
like the tree huggers miss the old growth
you crave me in your soul unknowing what you really are craving

Everyone has a right to believe or disbelieve however they wish
don't trample on my belief system
I will destroy all logic

You miss me like society's built on theft miss thier morals
golf courses on burial grounds
and Karma rises up in thier and their childrens angst

You miss me like the rootless misses traditions
taking the totems poles out of the forest and into muesums
away from the breezes that feed their magic
and charging for others to see inside the boxes created
something they never rightfully owned
praise the culture as art
and ignore the surviours and the morals of their stories

You miss me
I can tell

@Bragitta

....
photograph by Mr. Mark
http://gcaltabiano/1500mb.com/main.html

a lover that brought me a chess board instead of flowers
the spark of collision
the strategic moves playing out
as we argue about God
and studied each others faces
to try to figure out why as strangers we knew each other

the lacking rose petals got steped on
beneath the tracks of our best intentions
protecting past wounds
clinging to the curtains of self created cages
decorating windows shattered and dangerous with shards

I heard past the shut doors
the bird songs in the back yard
and the underbelly of pain

like an incessant gurgle of the brook
generalizations gathered
till we thought we knew what the other was about
and both felt mis-understood

though I left
Serendipity of reflections keep following me
like a total of lifetimes

@Bragitta

....photo by
chimico01
http://www.flickr.com/people/99626099@N00/