On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future.

A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women—me also;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them.

He didn’t want to be like this
Didn’t want to be the demon
Only, that was who he was
It was a part of himself that he couldn’t escape
He felt it rising in him
From the pit of his stomach
From the depths of his soul
Tearing it’s way free
Leaving behind a trail of destruction
Destroying everything he’d ever wanted
Everything he’d ever loved
Destroying himself

Sometimes I just step back,
Look at the lives of those around me.

I see the boy crying on the street;
His mother died in a crash now he’s in foster care, trying to keep the system from crushing his fragile soul.

I see the man on the cold, concrete steps, head in hands;
His wife suffers depression, she’s having a bad night and he doesn’t know if he can handle it.

I see the mother clinging to her baby girl;
She had three miscarriages that she blames on past sins.

I see the young woman hailing a taxi;
She’s afraid to be close to anyone for fear of her heart being broken again.

I see the teenage boy trying to hold his head high;
His mother committed suicide and his dad’s a drunk, he’s afraid he’ll end up like them.

Then I look in the mirror and I see nothing…

The hour of pain, sorrow, regret,
Picturing his face over and again.

The hour of wishes,
Wishing things could have ended differently.

The hour of tears,
Crying over the pictures that once held happy memories, now only cause pain.

The hour of trials,
Deciding if the pain is strong enough to win.

The hour of need,
Body aching to be next to his once more.

Midnight,
The hour of the broken hearted…