I sensed the presence of the older, “crotchety” man who came through a few days ago – theatrical, 1800’s feel … I ask, “Is it you again?” and I hear back: “Who do you think?”

Serious, never smiling
You weigh the world.
How heavy it seems.
Not light like your dreams.
See through the bubble
That causes all your trouble.

Howling at the moon.
Oh, to be free of these chains.
Tied to the earth
Once free, I would fly.
Float across the sky.

Lift off,
Free the ropes.
Soar with my hopes.
Life’s a big balloon.
You’ll see it all soon.

Do you dare
To let go your care
And drift with the wind?

Stars …
See how they twinkle.
It’s a new wrinkle.
All part of the story.

What you see isn’t real.
It depends how you feel.
Space travelers
Explore with your mind.
Who knows what you’ll find?

Paint the world with your brush.
Broad strokes.
What’s the rush?

All will be revealed in time.

(I sensed the poem was over and I realized that what had come through was completely different from what I had expected I would get. Then I heard: “You wanted me back? What did you think of that? Free, free, no restrictions. Express yourself.” I said, “Thank you, Sir.” He replied with a nod, “Of course.”)