Lyric Limitations

Today is the equinox.  The sun shines from my right, my ear warming and my eye seeing little strands of gold, the sun at work.  The sun being or growing or perfectly consistent.  
The bad the same amount as the un-bad, and both – well neither have color. Perception has color.  It’s a noun, I guess it is allowed ownership or at least attribute. 
Golden red waves blend with yellow gold thread interwoven with the brilliance of red.  Red dyed, dyed red, die red, or read so as not to die.
The sun a woman the sun caressing my skin.  Cells, molecules, and atoms.
Floating in orbit as well. Or perhaps non-well, unwell? If I could define perception –
How others perceive me, it would lead them around our culturally-imbued spectrum of space and vapor. The gas with an atom awry causing quick and peaceful death (carbon monoxide).
Energy prevails.  Because what a foolish construct – death as the end, all over, no longer, never more, ceasing, diseased and leaving us desperate. Disparate. Our eyes can’t see the new energy.
Our eyes lose it.
Our eyes release it.
Our being simply.
How can we see through the fire
And choke on its smoke
Giving us life and death in the same second, the same act.
Fire but not infrared.  Our eyes translate. They’ve picked they’ve chosen
And where I am is where I’ve always been. At a wrought iron table as the burning flare is orbiting around my life
Moving my life
Counting my life
Creating a measure
To create time
Time is entirely perception. When you live in your true body, you know this.
Nothing disparate at all in fact. Hovering, the red visible through eyelids forfeiting physical knowledge for culture
Or group think
Or nuclear disaster
Or a few beers by the campfire
Does the sun birth those little images of herself
Sharing her with us in a small way –
The only way we can understand.
Societally inclined
Fitting in with the leader
Befriending and allegiance leading to disfiguring those particles. They become a different thing, and our eyes can’t perceive it.
But our bodies can.
Mine tells me more frequently as the sun changes places, exchanges – 
And I know that it’s actually my body that’s moving around her. 
Grab on! I hear myself
But I cannot be trusted.
Too excessively defined,
Too extensively inclined. 

Warm me.
Without you I lay freezing under blankets. I look at a different part of the sun. The sun sees me from a
different side

But I want out  

Where is out? Has out properly spoken, befriended, invited me?
Danger: I think she may arrive under this same sun-side in this same non-out, where – 
What would happen?
Perception manipulated.
Wringed and slapped  

 Against the concrete.  

I dive into the cold pool. I would never have done so, under ordinary circumstances, but I thought
maybe moving from a gas to a liquid would change my own make up

Who can say if it has?
Can’t be visibly measured.
It’s like the day moving in and then out.