I hate it when words fail me,
even the space efficient words
that run silent, still and deeper
than the woods backlit with a full moon.
Those words leave a trail through my mind
and, even though I catch up with them,
they go farther than my heart was meant to go.

Early morning frost cover my dreams,
mythic, mystic, misty dreams shrouding
mountain peaks that were not mine to climb.
Other standards are mine to reach,
and where you go, it is not for me to follow.
On paradox trails we travel, and in pioneer shadows
we awaken a glory that was not for them to know.

Space efficient words in my backpack,
A trail mix of hype and cliche
that run silent, still and deeper
than the woods backlit by a full moon.
Dreamy words that leave me with nothing to say.
Your eyes say more than my mouth,
expressing love and joy and unburdened heart.

We were meant to share this moment,
and the moment is gone to soon.
Orion has put the moon to rest
but still her beams radiate from your eyes.
Which one of us has been blest?
Soon the winter sun will blaze silent and angry
and deep in the shadows we will say goodbye.

You make me believe in forever,
forever and a day and a night,
and the red dawn when dreams take flight.
There is innocence to be claimed and taken
to Icarian heights covered with virgin snow.
You take me places I will never go
and all my goodbyes donít mean a thing.

Kerouac wrote about Adamsí visions.
At different times they stood where I stand,
on the shoulders of giants
that run silent, still and deeper
than the woods backlit by a full moon.
Tonight the Ohio River flows through West Texas
as we sleep and dream on the banks of the blessed Trinity.