Rose colored me

When I write 

My muse whispers

Little white Truths

That alone harbor no meaning

But stitch a realm

Beyond here and now

***

What I write does not affect one or the other

But silently reflects Truth

I hold no knowledge that isn’t already known

For learning

Is to realize

The quest accomplished by another

Yet knowing

Is to pioneer

An intuitive quest of my own

***

I have a storyteller soul

That silently speaks

Through a language of shapes and forms

***

My thoughts and feelings

Bear no resemblance to my outward self

But resonate my one self

***

An ethereal being that changes form

From the slightest cosmic flux