even in the silence of the wilderness; thrive

unrely on ignorant accusations,

for only they color poisonous thoughts with blissful fantasies and grand delusions

[stroked with delicate precision of ink tainted with heartaches blood]

marked unfit for those thriving nakedly under the truthful sun

 

and

deception, which can feed never on the freedom,

of those sincere in seeking all which cannot fade,

will touch you if you let it

 

 

even in the silence of the wilderness; thrive

freedoms in the impossible – if only you believe

i write of love and all the pretty things —

things that grow wild and free and maintain no care

for what the atmosphere claims to be of worth.

 

words swish into the wind,

dispersing as a child puffs the dandelion —

floating off

into the big blue sphere that feeds life

into my hungry eyes.

 

wide.

bright.

 

they look past all the painted colors and worn threads.

beyond the flowered hills and silver lakes, where naked [bare]

the truth unfolds.

blooming, vibrant, wild, and free.

 

i unburry the treasure held within truth and taste the freedom on my lips.

freedom downpours, releasing gravity’s hold to where i land.

 

freedoms in the impossible — if only you believe.