I have ventured off the road
And found myself in a broken barren land
Where everything is unknown
And no directions but the lines on my left hand

I’ll scour and search
Every day and every night
Weary of those creatures who perch
Then swoop down in flight

Perhaps one day I’ll find
Where the snow gathers in whole
The place my heart shall bind
And dust the outside of my soul

We are all born into the world the same way:
Gasping for breath and stretching our arms to find a loving grasp.
We all leave the world in the same way too:
Searching for air to fill our lungs once more and the hope that we are not alone.
We all enter the same vicious cycle of life:
Growing up, only to be given the terrible news
That we will only have seventy-some years to live.
You will die and it is a terminal disease
Plaguing everyone.
Good luck escaping.
Maybe you’ll be the first, but I highly doubt it.
I haven’t seen anyone do it yet.
When we are young, we are given the whole crayon box,
Wild, bright, and beautiful colors to create whatever our imagination can think of
Hopefully something just as wild and bright and beautiful as  the colors we use.
Every year we get older
More and more of our crayons are taken away
So that we are only left with a mere few,
All neutral colors.
Our drawings are compared to those around us,
Get put up on the wall to display,
And all use the same colors.
Soon, all the drawings begin to even look the same.
All the same colors.
When you politely ask for your rainbow back,
Midnight blue
Lemon yellow
Flamingo pink
Forest green
Those around you begin to judge.
Your drawings look different,
You don’t fit in.
Many shy away from your vividness, from your life,
Who are you to go against the status quo?
Some share their colors which you are lacking,
Royal purple
Mandarin orange
Flaming red
Periwinkle
And your drawing becomes
A masterpiece
It’s abstract
A product of an active imagination
Everything you want your dreams to be.


The vicious cycle of life:
Being born the same
Learning to be different
Told you must act the same
Dying the same
If we all begin and end in this world the same,
Why keep our lives the same?
Why hesitate when asking for silver or gold?
Why fit in
When we are as unique as our fingerprints?

He brought me
Some
Hot coffee

And planted me
An
Apple tree

I gave him
Some
Soy milk

And gifted him
A
Fresh leek

Then we watched
The
Buzzing bees
Making
Sweet honey

When the winter was over
The frost melted off the grass
Daises, petunias, and clovers
Stood as fragile as glass

Spring came alive with joy
And the sun began to show
As if a child found a lost toy
And his face started to glow

Creatures were beckoned far and wide
Lapping at the stream with haste
Nothing even dared to hide
The Water was not something to waste

Finally, when the day came to an end
The doves sang their tune
And the colors of the sky began to blend
And all was silent by the sight of the moon

Somehow I find
The falling of stars
Pales in comparison
To the passing of cars
And hum of engines
When I feel your embrace
And peer into your mind

She plays music
Not from memory, but as she goes
Her hips like the curves of a cello
And her voice like velvet
(Exactly like its notes)
She was as smooth as the mahogany wood
And nobody could master her
(Rather accentuate her beauty further)
Her music was tantalizing
And she taught me how to play it
All throughout the night

I was once told the universe begs to be noticed
Stars are constantly being created and destroyed
Planets are bombarded with energy
Comets are traveling along their course
(Until some greater gravity, force, or God’s hand changes their track)
Yet the universe
Lives
Breathes
Pulses
Through the land you stand
On the water you float
And the very air you breathe
Varying elements, that comprise
The crumbling ruins of Athens
The cleansing sea mist on port city walls
The terminally ill bodies in which we are confined,
Litter all things like crown jewels
The universe shines from our fingertips
But nothing gold can stay
And eventually our lights fade into the distance:
Boats deserting the shore, never to be seen again
Only after they navigate past sheer cliffs
Bathed in the remnants of the painted nightfallen sky
Our lives do not ceaselessly beat on like the waves on a shore
No matter how much we wish it so
We return to the Earth from which we rose
While still retaining the cosmos inside of our beings
Stars will continue to be born and die
Desolate rocks with still absorb radiation
Meteors will move along their infinite ellipse
(Closely followed by a mile-long tail)
As long as we exist
The universe will—