Painting with a friend

I began to paint illusion
at the recognition of arrogance.
Tender words spoke toward me,
in suspicious tones,
crept forward without eyes
while unsure truths
colored the canvas with pretty possibilities.
Which face was warn on those warm days
when conscious conclusion
began to dictate direction?
But the shoes were unsure
when both feet jumped in
stepping toward timidity
concealed in confidence,
toward winter
veiled in warmth,
toward what could have been
drowning in never.

Everything is only what could be
until it is said
"It is"
and becomes.
As to be
is to say
I am.
But one I am did not know that he is
and the other
stumbled forward.

So what was
-a fractured past stenching forward to fuck the now,
prowling the present,
sought to devour what could have been
-A healing land
where weeds are known as beloved
by the keeper of beautiful things.

So ruptured reality relented to the mystic
while Lucifer spoke in pedophile rhyme.
But I am not your father
I am no Madonna.
I am possessed in elastic illusion
stretched tight over my face
suffocating dreams
while I try to spit up confusion.
Lucidity slips as icy waters rise.
As compassion muted amplifies fears.
Sit silent in separate spaces
till the right words are spoken.
Kind goodbyes with no rain for weary lands.
Realign to proper positions.
The purpose of the tribulation was bigger than the both
as monumental mountains crack with light
to shatter lonely places with a whisper.
As Wind in rage carry's the deluge to dilute the darkness,
laying waste to rancid religious relics
as angles and demons dance into oblivion.

Shhh...
Stand in the new place
revel in the revealed and speak
I am.