I ask the people of the world
Why must we keep boxes of
each race, barricades in each
Borders, separate lives of each
Cultures, as our truth varries in
    each mirrored choices, then we
Carry the havy consequences,
The burden of these shackled
Past - we ponder to wonder
These nightmarish Regrets
So in the end, the answer is
Subjective, rules and walls
Are there for a reasonable
Purpose
It maybe
good or bad
Light or dark
Day or night
An infinite battle
Running in circles
         to maintain
chaos and order
in one box.

why do i only feel alive when im toeing the line of death

once you’ve lived
with a cat or two
any item in the periphery -
a towel, a purse, a sock
becomes a still creature,
silently watching

Under the sea of stars
Lay remnants of departed days
From a past up in flames
And smoke transforms
Into clouds that armour your darkest nights

The hurt may go away
but your memory will
forever rest in my soul.

Until we feel the softest rains
And sand between our toes
Till we see our breath on morning days
Or taste the wind that gently blows

Until we smell the earthy dew
Or feel the pebbles in our grasp
Till the lightning flashes through
Till the leaves all fall at last

Until the sparrow sings its final song
Or the wisteria finally blooms
Until we face the moon for long
We shall be fearful of what looms

Fist-tight, it casts a shadow on pure white card -
I draw around it with a fine-black, cut it with a curved ten-blade.

The shadow-heart’s a gift. I keep the stencil.