Getting old: I look

carefully at the flower --


Today I still can.

Do you ever stop…
and really look?
Feel the breeze through your fingers,
hear little kids laughing as they run,
watch an old couple window shopping?
A pregnant mother,
a girl and her dog on a bench,
sneaking him her ice cream—
Do you feel the flowers bloom?
Do you let the rain kiss your face?
Do you hear the waves crash?
Do you notice old friends catching up,
girls in their twenties joined by the hip,
an old man enjoying the sun?
I see it all.
And I’m asking you—
look with me,
feel it with me,
let yourself notice
how alive love and life can be.

I wonder why people cannot forgive, for even the things I try to hold slip away
I wonder why people cannot forget, for it seems far too easy for me
the things I try to do just fall apart and what I've built
is far too weak
I wonder why people can't cry, for my tears become a river
then it becomes a raging drought that I cannot help become alive
I wonder why people get angry, for my heart it cannot hold
when I come up in defense, I promise anger is not my sword
though sometimes I carry pointy daggers and pointy arrows
I promise that they're made of foam and of my own sorrows
what's outside is not in, and what I hold is not a sin
is it? is what I will question, but I cannot make it so
I wonder why people cannot see the world as it is
a snake in a garden, like the garden of Eden
We have become a parasite, one seeking to destroy
to live and protect a world we say is ours
I wonder why we cannot heal, and how we shy away from the sun
why I love the rain when they love the snow
and I the thunder and them flowers, they'd only know
I wonder a lot of things, and for those it'll never be
answered because this world is a strange place
that will not be here much longer
I hope that they'll know the destruction and the pain
while I search for something
to make this world even a little worth it

I watch him leave, yelling his fathers name
Rushed steps that only mean another day gone
I wanted this… I must know that it is true—
But each day that he’s here I wonder what went wrong
I wanted a better place but perhaps it’s too soon
But her voice, I’ve seen, has become soft
The faint whispers of loud screams became something I forgot
Perhaps I am too naive- too gullible
Perhaps I have fallen into the trap of words
Perhaps it’s getting better, but I remember the ghost of what was
And what is to be
Is this a right thing to believe? To dream?
Perhaps I imagined it all

I see blue from a rooftop,  
blinded by light and laughter.  
an embrace of the sun —  
my skin, melting butter.  

through the attic window,  
weightless curtains flutter…  
and I suddenly wonder:  
what it feels like to be a bird?  

smelling air,  
its scent of lavender,  
singing the wind's song,  
unbottling memories of last summer.  

enjoying a rainbow after the thunder,  
oh, how I wonder  
what it feels like to have wings?  

and I fall asleep, lullabied into dreams  
by a gentle wind with its tune of a summer breeze.

The beauty brought by your senses
might serve just as evolution planned.
Or perhaps your mind drifts into wonder-
evolution's greatest, unintended gift?

Are there birds
who celebrate their tetrachromacy?
Do you celebrate
the power of your mind?

Do our close kin in nature
ask these kinds of questions?
Our ancestors surely did.
How many humans do?

Are you the catalyst?
Are you my muse?
My master?
My Shaman?
My guide?

Or some drifter who sparked something
Dead in me...
Too dormant to pry from
The floorboards by myself

I would've never seen
What I could be if you
Didn't light the match
You were,
Are,
Will be,
my hidden passion
Inspired if you only did
what I was asking

We could somehow,
Still be
Now the tables turned
If only you could deal with me
You were my peer
Yet my professor
Froze any lessons Into lectures
Pressure is setting in

Hope you know I'll always be
Your biggest fan
Flat characters in a bad romance

I coulda wrote
with half my wit tied
behind my back
Doesn't make this any less real
The ritual thins the veil
Please tell me
you can feel ...
This
Whatever IT even is
Are you my mystic ?
Or my mediator ?
My handler ?
Or myself ?
Displayed on a face

I've hallucinated
Just to keep me company
Yet you reply
And react
as if you were made to

Maybe your the simulation
Or were tailor made to
make me whole
I dunno...