Shaman Horn

She was my everything,
My female reflection,
Of why life is ment to be lived,
And what beauty can be,
But the years made our love a chore,
Made the cherishing less,
And now everything seems selfish,
As if I am a rapist,
As if only my needs matter,
When,
My heart bleeds for injustice,
In slashing living natural Beauty,
As if an animal can be forced to bow,
Control nothing more this insecurity,
The earth our servant,
Never can my painting be controlled,
Can my message be altered,
Caring for souls is my way,
And rape is for the profane and miserable,
For the unfeeling, they raped our
Mushroom forest can't u see,
Now ghosts mushroom friends,
We had special times,
That good father swung a chainsaw singing, cutting down the invisible,
Just as....
Tears built up behind the eyes to hear
My soulmate see me that way...