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The orchestra awaits in the pit;
Waiting for their cue.
Waiting for the lights.
The hierarchy of the symphony ready’s their instruments.
The concertmaster prepares the string section.
The principle trombone and trumpet
Rallies the brass section.
The flute looks over the woodwinds.
All these parts and pieces brought together
To make beautiful music;
Music that pierces the soul,
Soothes the turbulent mind,
And brings sophistication
To the chaotic mind.

Yet there is a man
Who stands before the assembly.
He does not play strings.
He does not play brass.
He does not play woodwind.
He stands before the assembly with wand in hand
With his back facing an eager audience.
For he has the most important job of all.
The orchestra would remain an assembly
Of beautiful noise with no direction
Without that magic wand.

This man directs the noise
To blend and flow
To make sense to our ears.
He is the conductor,
And he plays the orchestra.
What if a mouse
Had the power of a human?
Would it do as a human does?
Or would it continue as a mouse?
What if a human
Had the power of a god?

We yearn for something greater,
Something that gives meaning
To our flesh and bone.
Answers to questions we desperately seek,
Only to find our ambition
Outweighs our ability.

We want something we don’t understand
With the hope that we will.
Should a man possess the power of a god,
That man will not be godly.
That man would still be a man,
But seen as a god to other men.
Who would teach that man to be a god
If no other man has been a god?

We shun the notion of a mouse
Being human,
Yet laugh at the challenge
Of being a god.
But what’s the difference?
Crying loud, stuck in your throat.
No one can hear.
Tread along, feet drag behind.
No one is near.
It’s too late to restart.
You’re faking your part.
Go down that avenue,
You’ll never find peace.
When you come home to good medicine,
You’ll finally sleep.

Light it up, let it out.
Whole mind is sore.
Inhale, holding on tight.
Flowing to your core.
It gets late, it gets dark.
You’re playing this part.
Lay down, obscured view,
You’re searching for peace.
Come down from good medicine
So you can get sleep.
Windows

It’s not the truth I seek,
But my truth I desire.
I’ve been trapped in this room so long
That I didn’t notice the window.

Outside this window was light.
Within that light, I saw life.
A landscape of green, vibrant and stunning.

Another window appears.
A midsummer rainstorm
Washing the streets and nourishing the world.
The smell of life penetrates the glass.

Then I noticed several more windows.
A sky painted with sleepy hues.
A deep ocean, calm and tranquil.
A metropolitan skyline, busy and loud.
A symphony of animal shouts and chirps.
A desert oasis full of wonder.

In awe of the splendor, I glance back to the room,
And I realize my truth.
I was never trapped in this room.
I just never looked for an exit.
It begins with a spark.
A surge I feel in my bones.
I’m unaware, at first,
But slowly it spreads throughout.

The sensation reaches full potential,
It builds to the surface.
Suddenly, my interior sneaks out
And dares anyone to witness.

As an expression.
As words.
As a gesture.
I am left with conflict.
Do I stroke this flame
And let it consume its surroundings?
Or do I let it wither,
Starved of attention?

Just as I begin to understand,
Just as I begin to see this flicker
Draped over me,
It vanishes,
As quickly as it came.

I’m left with the aftermath,
And the wonderment
Of if I’ll ever catch it as it sparks,
Or continue to be seconds behind.
Took my breath from me.
Passion swept us off our feet.
Sunk her teeth so deep in me,
Left me numb in this reverie.
She gives a smile for me
As my blood falls to her cheek.
Sing a lullaby off key.
What has she done to me?

While I was sleeping I felt compressed.
Weight of the world, I felt on my chest.
Open my eyes, I just see blood-red.
No going back.

Undead fantasies replaces memories of old
Like a story once told, stripped away,
I won’t need them.
The world just stares at me,
But there’s no life out there for me.
I just want her to take me home,
See what’s beyond this flesh and bones.

I must be dreaming, it’s in my head.
My body’s empty, I feel undressed.
I’m barely breathing, but there’s no stress.
No going back.
Hearing the words but they don’t come out my mouth.
I can’t work up the nerve
To ask her to dance and maybe buy her a drink,
I think I might throw up.
Another song, hope I’m not wrong,
I’m leaning on the jukebox.

Standing in place like nobody is there,
I can’t believe myself.
A million reasons I should go over there
But I hide in my cup.
Another song, hope I’m not wrong,
I’m leaning on the jukebox.
I’m pleading with the jukebox.
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