Someone asked 
what’s love 
after thinking 
I replied 
what isn’t 

I am neither 
the note nor
the bottle but
the sea destined
to carry you 
away depositing you 
somewhere else for 
others to find 
read and wonder 

We live in 
a seductive time 
it is easier 
to give in
but paradise was
never meant for 
the selfish followers 
finding comfort in 
the blind masses 
paradise is reserved 
for those who 
listen to their 
souls and never 
to their minds 
this soul listening 
is only heard
when the egos
cacophony of noise 
is distinguished and 
then ultimately extinguished 
freeing the souls
whisper to hear

Having been 
here before 
I know 
that now
more than 
ever since 
is when 
one must 
if one 
ever will
and therefore 
does again 
for this 
is that 
very why

I found my heart 
in the root cellar 
hiding behind cans of 
pickled beets and tomatoes 
way back tucked away 
in a dank corner 
crying no actually that
had stopped now dry
but I knew it
having seen faint salty
rings all around it
like little chalk outlines 
where bodies lay dying 
one in the same 
I thought then staring 
one in the same