Waiting It Out

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This miasma, foul air
Vapor from the shameless exhales of chatter
Pollute my lungs with every patient breath
Leaving a residential tar more cloying
Than this cigarette, or any other
Crutch I have leaned upon

In these eyes lurk a feral glow of savagery
Are you so blind that you would smooth my jagged shape with polish
Because I’m blurry about the edges, and ill-defined?

Do you think adjusting your gaze intently
Will alter the reality of my flesh and bone?

I will meet you here naked in the golden light of dawn
Bare, shameless in my possession of flesh
This moment is mine, immersed in solitude
Yet no walls defend my gratifying silence

I would welcome the song of two heart beats dancing
While this rain whispers “yes” to every denial
Opposing each fear you unwittingly buried
Or uttered with shame in that silence you covet

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Lost Ones, Found

Lost Ones, Found

Rain washes me clean
Though I am dry in the lee
Of this porch, of the wind
Of a past I rescind
This moment is mine
The echo, a sign
That my hollow places
Scars and traces
Are not so far behind
That they cease to bind
Although I am learning
This glorious burning
Feeds decadence and decay
The way we all pray
To our own saving grace
In our own silent place
Where we confront our story
Beside transcendence, and glory
So I write, to spite
Darkness and light
Recalling that society
And also piety
Are constructs of fear
Divinity is near
Not found in perspective
Or a comfortable elective
Your soul is your own
A struggle, wisdom grown
From all that you were
Those paths that diverged
Led you unerringly here
There is no need to fear
Be all that you are
An unnamed star
Shine alone, while those deride
For it is in solace that you reside
where you most presently become
A contribution to the sum

 

Reflection

The smile that is reflected in the mirror has a twist, an unintentional smirk
At the irony of life, how our light
Is found on the darkest inner pathways we walk

To be honest with yourself is a monumental effort requiring bravery
Facing your demons with nothing to arm yourself with but a sharp wit and steel spine
Perhaps that is what makes you… Or breaks you

We all slip on our assent up the mountains within us
To persevere or to surrender is one of the few choices we possess
In this world revolving, spinning madly in a void
Of space we maintain around the orbits of others

Rain On The Windows to My Soul

It is a long road, full of shadows and leaves glowing with golden sunlight
It is full of laughter that makes your eyes water, and tears that wet your cheeks and drown your inner voices
It is scattered with thorns and flower petals

She loves me, she loves me not…

Now the leaves of the oak tree will illustrate
How beautiful it can be to fall
From our own heights attained, we tumble
And in this way, we learn our lessons

Leaving only footprints in the groves, or ribbons in the boughs
We travel onward as a wind,
Who whispers in the meadow

Others pass us by like clouds
Bearing a welcome shade or a violent storm
We wear the marks of their passing in our blooms courted by bees
Or trampled with tempest
But always the world turns and the time will come
To risk it all in withering, sending forth our seeds
Seeking root elsewhere in those fertile soils
Of friends we have yet to meet

When We were Stars

Sometimes I think it would be easier if we could be alone, but alas, we are an animal that craves the comfort of its own kind. Because of this, we are constantly giving up small pieces of ourselves, and filling those empty spaces with the pieces of another. Constantly compromising ourselves for the company of others who, despite their love, are cloying and ignorant of the stars behind your eyes.

So you attempt to bank your inner fire so you don’t burn others, but in loosing the flame you have lost the heat. Desperately you reach for the warmth of another, even as your heart craves the solace of mountains.

Struggling to maintain a balance between empathy and entropy, you age slowly in the privacy of your pages, recalling the nights when you shone fiercely in the darkness, burning with prose, and others made wishes upon your light.

Making My Own Gravity

Letting go, empty air and wind rushing past my ears

No redundant metaphors of wings to uplift me

This moment is clarity, honed by the rough edges of solitude

I awaken, even as I gently persuade myself to sleep

Stars burn hotter than my poetry

Their eyes peer at me from behind the veil of of clouds

I nod to them with knowing

I too once combusted, was set aflame with the Fire of existence

I know the glory, and the anguish of passion

Yet here in my seat, the conclusion of that inferno

This mortal body carrying the dust of my genesis

I realize that I am what the stars themselves become

When they die so gloriously and spread their elemental seeds

To build this vessel who looks up at them with wonder

Feeling small… And powerful