to me

[cacian]

It comes to me so easily
the air the moon
the sun the breeze

I see through it so
fancily the words
the hopes the sentiments

I speak of it so readily
the age the book
the world of sorts

I always manage to
keep it high
the flow the lows
the memories

I never tire of hearing it
the sounds the birds
the music beats

I have it sealed
for more appeal
the self the ways
the days ahead

I make it all
to be a ride
adventure with
the perfect tide