Honey

Make your money; honey, it drips from the golden globe,
when the heart invests in the desire for more,
folklore, be the twin, move into humanity not away,

we are still babes learning basics of life,
crawling never stops, we are mere babes.

In pursuit of all being; spiritual sight evolves as pupils narrow with time,
in the embassy of existence~ there is no winning, simply a simple being,
crossing over concrete paths of illusion; where the steps allow.

Life is controversy, behold salutation, inundation, eradication,
satiation, moreover liquid gold as it drips from the golden globe.

Pebbles in the smallest of rivers, a child’s imagination runs free,
doves lifted from cages, canaries lift spirits of the downtrodden,
lift up the life of your creation, it is neither the fall nor the rising
that defines your all; it’s the sculpting of vision that falls in between.

The river runs free, golden honey,
it is freedom that we run to,
it is the freeing of temptation,
running for home.

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