(i stumbled upon this poem that i wrote back in may 2006) 

its not that

simple. understanding. warm. vibrant.

when the world spins its turns of tocks

and docks are filled with crewless ships

five dips into each hour, two remain

crimson tides that sway no answers

what good can it bring? can i bring?

fog takes form of snow

upon this boundless region, making history

its not that simple. understanding. warm. or vibrant

when you shut the world.

and i shut the door.

open. up.

this is not for you.

but for all who are lost.

i’m spreading good warm vibes in the air, in hope of some revival to those.