I used to have an odd relationship
With the early hours of the day
After the clock strikes midnight
But before the suns first ray
The hours when dew is forming
And possums meander along
When drunkards are outside dancing
When the heartbroken hum their song

But lately I've grown fond
Of these hours in between
Despite the dark night sky
The grass appears quite green
The world around seems absent
No bustling energy here
But once your eyes adjust
Your head can finally clear

There's space in the silence
In the darkness and the death
It's a gap between the diving
Where your conscience takes a breath
And I love the irony
How it's when you lose your sight
That the fog of darkness settles
And you can see the dimmest lights.

I've become convinced that love ends in pain.

Maybe not in eternity, but in this life, I believe that's true. Love in this life has an end already written. And it hurts. Giving into love is like locking yourself in a prison, knowing that a lethal injection is the only way out. I used to think that didn't matter to me... "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Well my defense mechanisms are screaming the opposite. They're making the part of love that's supposed to be sweet have a bitter aftertaste. I thought I would choose love, even knowing the end. Now love's been presented to me so nicely, but my guts are in a knot and that lethal injection is haunting me. How do you defy every self-preservation bone in your body for love?

To make it even more difficult, I don't see anyone else struggling with this decision. Other people just embrace the lethal injection without a second thought. They're okay with the trade. They don't even care if a key to the prison exists cause they would never so much as think about taking it. Love is worth it to them...

Why isn't it to me?

What made my defense mechanisms so heightened that I can't deny them for something I want. For something that would be really good... Maybe a key doesn't exist. But my mind found another solution: don't go into the prison. Just avoid the whole thing to begin with. So here I am, stuck in the middle. In what feels like a perpetual struggle between my heart wanting something beautiful and good, but my brain being in fight-or-flight mode trying to protect me. It's exhausting. It's a lot easier just being alone... My life was still so full...
The "happily ever after" side of me wants to believe I'll choose love. But my brain is a realist. And it has a hard time believing I'll choose the prison...

I cry for countless things
For birds with broken wings
For toys left by growing kids
For discarded wedding rings

I cry for characters on screen
Personas I've never truly seen
Whose stories echo familiar
With wisdom that I might glean

I cry for broken hearts
For unsuccessful starts
For fields of wildflowers
That are staked then ripped apart

I cry for rivers that can't be crossed
I cry for things not yet lost
And even within remarkable love
I cry, knowing what love will cost

I have a friend who cries
For rose-tinted skies
For the first looks given
From a newborn babies eyes

She cries for happy endings
And noble, generous spending
She cries for torn friendships
That are slowly but surely mending

She cries from staggering laughter
Or jumbled kitchen disasters
Or while attempting obscure talents
That we both know she never will master

I think it's something special
To have tears so freely deployed
At the sight of heartbreak and beauty alike
What a gift, to cry for joy.

What I see in her brings tears to my eyes
I crave that untethered jubilee
And in my longing, I realize
The beginnings of it in me

It’s amazing how another human
Can change the way you see.
When you really know somebody else
You’ll find that they’re a “me.”

You find out that the thoughts they have
Are also never ceasing.
And the list of things you learn from them
Will always be increasing.

You learn their inner monologue
As if it were your own,
You hear the fine print of their brain
In their voices pitch and tone.

This person is as detailed
As you know yourself to be.
Their story is as winding
As the roots beneath a tree.

A being who can ponder
Who can think beyond the concrete.
The vast expanse of ideas in one mind
Makes the body seem obsolete.

The depth of all reality,
Something immeasurable,
Is captured in the inner workings
Of this thing that is a soul.

A person who was just someone
Can become much more than “he,” or “she.”
You’ve truly grasped some wisdom
When you see that person as a “me.”

And even more enlightening
Are the thoughts that might occur
When you contemplate that there are
8 billion “Me,”s on this earth.

I believe in heaven
Because I watch people die
Death isn't what they told you
There's no light that fades from their eyes

No last words are spoken
From a heart that is at peace
The silence goes unbroken
No final breath perceived

Yet even in that quiet
As heart and lungs collapse
There is something clearly spoken
A resounding epitaph

The emptiness of body
Makes a claim of something more
What is now a mix of bonded cells
Was not just that before...

There was more to them than a beating heart
More than a chest's rise and fall
And if some part of them still lives
I know it's not stuck inside these walls

A soul has left the room.
A spirit took its flight.
The person that you knew escaped
While the body lost its fight.

So while I can only see a body
I believe there is something beyond
And as the optimist I am
I pray that heaven is where they've gone

I sense the silent tears
Shed for those you've lost
The memories behind your eyes...
It breaks my heart to watch
I wish that I could take your place
Or steal away some weight
But there's nothing I can do
That will give you an escape

I may never have experienced
The things that cause you pain
But through the gift of human empathy
I feel them all the same
So in sorrow and in heartbreak
I am here to hold your hand
And while I may not be able to relate
I can always understand

In the hum drum and the toil
In the itch of daily life
As we each till our own soil
Carefully avoiding each others' strife
We go to and fro enjoying
The comfort of monotony
And take pride in our employing
The right of autonomy

We take little heed of shadows
And the artwork they display
Or the fluffiness of clouds
As they drift along their way
We forget to thank our knees
As we bend to take a seat
Or admire the flowing streams
In the hardwood beneath our feet

It takes substantial effort
To see the inches in the miles
But there's something striking in them
That I think you'll find worthwhile
Take notice of the details
Don't be blind to little things
When life feels all too big
Just practice noticing