When the sun can settle
After burning morning's haze,
To create unfamiliar shadows.
We look upon that which is left.
The remains of possibility,
And hopes of grandeur -
Which feed bowls of dead earth
To starving mouths.

We alone knew the risks
The enemy is time,
And progress takes so much more
For its services than patience
Ever asked of us.
Setting out to begin life in the wild.
Pioneering to love what we couldn't keep,
To hold a land that wasn't ours,
Banking on ingenuity and gut feeling;
First love, first loss.

Mindfulness

A dark screen, humming with the power of ancient life.
Emptiness, all bated breath. 'What', we wonder 'will this teach us?'
The smell of alcohol swabs drifts back to a childhood memory-
And, there. Blue. Azure-life springs on the screen.
Morphing, moving. Floating like some odd gas in an alien
equilibrium.
Except, I'm cold, and I remember I forgot a jacket.
Blue to red.
I'm still swimming, and tapping my left foot to some song
Trapped in the recesses of consciousness.
A tingle in the right hand. Pulses. Closed. Empty.
And a verdant light show dances to entertain the screen-watcher.
All of these colors, so many things, caught up in one.
Moving and mixing, and remaining different.
I cannot begin to understand.

Sleepless Nights

Turning over to empty spaces in a cold room. Memory, like a cruel trick; Plays scenes and sounds off these dark, empty walls. The shadows of dreams dance to a song That no one quite remembers. But of course, dreams require sleep. Shadows, only the pockets hidden from light. Fingering lengths and wondering, How much do we value life? Weathered hands shaking, trembling. Not ready to catch another fall.

Pause In Motion

Listen - Closed eyes open up a world of sound no eye can imagine. Radio in the other room, laughter I don't understand. Construction and car horns. So much motion, this morning brings. In only moments, the day is a world awake. A turbulent night No longer holds. The morning brings with it, fresh new light. Though we start anew, we bear marks we cannot hide. Lines to a story, awaiting its reprise. Tragedies and joys in the making - the making that makes us beautiful.

So much left unsaid About the daily struggle, The hard-fought, battles. Where nightmare and reality collide. Suppose we could see it coming, If foresight was stronger than Far-sightedness. The calm before disaster; A moment's free-fall before the Inescapable impact. Time to remember. The only memories, what we've forgot. Caught in the silence, Release of energy. Explosions of light, explosions of sound. So many things left unsaid. Her storehouses empty, The exhale of energy, sighs deeply. Dust frenzies, dances, then settles. Suppose we weren't caught in such silence, Could our eyes adjust to the picture, Explosions of life, lay strewn on the ground.

Impact

Images moving forward Motion never ending Bodies orbiting space Never imagining Giants, lost in their journey Forces unforeseen Steady, sturdy, whole Searing through velocity Light on the surface Explosions of lines - found in their journey Tracing their roots Through the time and the space Feeling reality in the breaking And the pain Giant explosions of lines, once lost, join in the impact

Bodies in Motion

Sometimes, for lack of better subconscious material - We don't dream. We simply fall. THE FALL. It always seems so explanatory, "I fell," I think to myself. Naturally, it happens all the time. But how did I fall? And from where? Of course, who ever answers? We simply wake up, suddenly. Jolted awake by an impact imagined. Then we begin walking. A series of measured, controlled Almost-falls, quickly caught by the next. We live that way. We "fall" in love. More of life is spent falling, It would seem, than standing.

Prisoners, ghosts, and images

We never travel alone. Necessity, or Providence; Something bigger has taught us. Though our hearts are hard - Harder than stone. We carry impossible weight. Stepped up to our eyes in earth. The earth we turn to ocean, Filled up with our tears. Polluted by our own hate. I trace the lines across my arm. Ruts as deep as dermis, Down to muscle, blood, and bone. Feeling the weight of eternity, In the presence of momentary harm. But we choose to stay here. Because we cannot see another way. There is nothing so great, Nothing so fine, it seems - As my prison-kingdom of fear. I wonder, do You kiss away tears? Does the crystal ocean move Your heart, In a torrent of compassion Stronger than the grave? Can you hold me, when I am left here?

"Because you asked me to"

In a peaceful valley, I wonder if my heart has any place here; If its presence will undo the beauty all around. Because, you know, I'm a trembler, a bender, Adrift against each crashing bellow. Lilies dance under your fingertips - Mr. Sunshine's rays kiss your skin, and leave us new. Feeling transformed; transcended - undone, and lightheaded. I came all this way because you asked me to. Each grasp comes untied in my arms, Falling sheathes flowing out of my heart. Mingling with these new tears we shed - Mingling tears with joy - we dance them underfoot.

"this is the ride of your life"

there is a lot of summing up in each passing day. putting your day into a few chosen words. putting those words into a strand to describe a month, and then writing a brief synopsis of your year based on your summations. it's a lot like a child learning to hang words together in the right order. we gradually pick our descriptions, till we no longer provide "useless" information, with too many words and facts, until it is exactly how others will want to read it. but we don't get to pick our stories. so it seems right, that we shouldn't get to pick how they are told, either. life is indeed a gift. and stories, these passing moments that we spend, are all a part of us. not to be cut down to size, or re-shaped into a flattering picture. how much do we lose telling stories that are only half ours? and wanting desperately for what we seem to never be able to hold? be content with your story. if it is not heroic: then live heroically. if it is not self-less: then live selflessly. if it is not loving: then live in Love. but do not simply try to alter your story in words - for even the simplest child knows that the primitive words they use are only a dim reflection of the true story that they tell, that which they have been.

A Painful Reminder

Nothing goes out.
But nothing gets in.
The price of a synthetic,
pharmaceutical skin.
Never awake,
Not fully asleep --
Just barely lucid enough
To know it's not what I need.

You pass a day, a week,
a month, even - a year.
Yet nothing can change in me.
This stagnancy is what I fear.

A balance elusive,
Is it made-up instead?
Of these small, chemical battles
That rage war inside my head.
I don't know why they're fighting
I don't know who will win --
But I know just now I felt a warm breeze
As it moved across my skin.
I felt a sun ray,
And saw the sunset
As the light was growing dim.

The whole world looked on,
As it's only continued to be.
The whole world hasn't changed much
But, for now, I can see.

An almanac awry

unprecedented
and no explanation
you're reaching up with your own two hands
and catching air as an explanation
twenty years long, and twenty years wide
but still there's no answers just yet as to whys

a warm, summer breeze breathes promise amid the winter
but these shifting, trembling floors do not feel and don't remember
there is promise in the earth, as it waits for stronger tides
the tides of war and peace can be held by the heart of a child
no one ever heard of this
but we all thought we knew
it's unprecedented what You're doing
unprecedented -- just like You

Half truth, half you

There's nothing more to say,
Nothing new, just another day
You won't call,
No, and I won't answer.
Did we always know,
In the end we'd only hear
"I told you so's"
And how everything just seems
Like someone's sick joke?

No, I can't,
I can't un-do what's been done
I close my eyes,
You're the only one,
And I just wish sometimes you wouldn't stay away.

Are you happy?
Did it make you feel better,
To throw your punches,
While I was on my knees
So lay it all on me,
What does it matter anyway?

Say, goodybye,
Sing it softly speaking this lullaby,
You know we both sound best together.

Stranger staring back

Watching everyone's faces for a trace of worry,
Looking over my shoulder to see everything is the same.
Hopefully wishing for a break from these routines.

No one says otherwise. Not a word seems misplaced.
No excuse for me to doubt,
This stranger staring back into my face.

But I do. I know your secret. I know.
You assume my position, and even my accents.
Still, you're a stranger living in my skin.

What do people do -- maybe my elders?
When they cannot recognize the mirror looking back,
When a stranger sleeps in their beds?

I'm searching for my shadow that's been misplaced.
Straining to see some clue to where I've gone.
I'm lost, oh why, when I'm where I've always been...