nisi

you ride horses? i did once or twice but ide always heel them in the side to make them run. whats the point of riding an other animal if you cant experience the speed thay can experience? hehe. you are so very beautiful.

Here is a story for you to ponder, enjoy. All the best.

Will xoxo

But What Do I know
(Anatomy Of The Peace Process)

Within four walls men speak
across a table wooden and round.
The sounds are voices
the choices of the wind,
breeze blown words
that cover the ground.
Thoughts of responsibilities
of the extended communities
volley back and forth.
The source their hearts intuition
holding strong to natures course.
Hours pass as stories shared
shed layers thick and thin.
Sunlight dims as worlds combine
thtough collide-o-scope glasses,
minds in twined.
The rally of causes ignites sensation,
As laughter and whispers
spring forth with creation.
But the ideas of men die fast,
their actions die harder.
But we knew all of that when we started.
Inherently defect we are but thats a given,
to know what we know
yet choose to stay in it.
But what do I know?
A question is raised;
who are we to judge?
As products of our environment
its in our blood.
We choose with ignorance
our thoughts belligerent.
Tolerance is a lie were fed.
In bed each night
our conscious cries
with fears of guilt and sin.
Down for what?
Nothing is what it seems.
Shine bright the glow of knowledge
for the shadow is upon us,
and light is but a dream.
They laugh with violence at stupidity
and so crown Themselves king.
Foolish is the ruler
with many mouths to feed,
that toils in oil
for dreams ill conceived.
The conversation
strays through oceans
of unexplored reasons,
which fail to seize the point
of initial contact.
The fact that
They always push ahead
with out dread
of circumstance
really reveals that
we all need to chill the fuck out.
Shut the machine down.
We need to take a minute
to stop and look around.
The sun will rise again
whether were here or not,
but who remembers then
or have they forgot
does it even matter?
The chatter of our conscious
will only sleep when we die.
The cries are silent
until the soul is dead,
but then of course
Weve reached the end.
As I mentioned
there are men speaking,
across a table wooden and round.
The sound of voices
the choices of individuals
coming together
on common ground.
Our thoughts
are our responsibilities
that extend to the community,
creating unity back and forth.
Hearts of nature
nurture heavens course
through splendid layers
thick and thin.
Our sins are our shadows
made visible by the setting sun.
As hours run pass
the collide-o-scope skies combine.
Tranquility sparks reason,
to burn laughters flame,
and shame within guilt
is a feeling not known.
But in the end,
what do I know?