The way you treat me when
I am fighting my demons in
the trenches of my soul
on the front lines of the battle
for my sanity,
The way you treat me when I am low
will influence the way I feel about you
when a stalemate is called
and I am so happy that
I am shooting down the moon.
Treat me as an ally in a great war
Treat me as ****
But remember,
I am not always in the trenches
and
I am not always shooting down the moon.

Heaven
Valhala
Paradise
Peace lies here in these words
like a stone falling slowly in water
drifting downwards into
it's final resting place
it has long since given up the fight
against the current
But we did not give up
cannot give up.
We fight valiantly for so long
until we are carried off into
a warriors heaven,
which can only be a place of peace,
the gods way of saying
"You have fought well
rest now, and forever,
rest your weary soul."

If you think about it...
the "GRIM" Reaper is not such a bad guy.
He greets you in death,
holds your hand gently
and walks you
to your deserved afterlife,
the one you earned for yourself.

For if you have ever walked alone at night
even within the safety of your own home
you know the terror of darkness
and silence, crushing silence.

The Reaper leads your soul through a dark void
a million times as harsh as an abandoned stairwell
or any earthly darkness.
He does not choose which side you go to
Heaven or Hell.
He simply reads your chart
sees the location that you have earned
and escorts you safely there.

We have unfinished business
You, Me, and the Universe.
There is something we
are meant to do together.

Some reason that the reaper
stayed his hand.
Protected us from blade and pills.
Some reason we did not move on
into that great beyond
even though we groped in the darkness
looking for the sweet kiss of death.

The reaper did not want us
because the Universe is not through with us yet.
We have something to attend to,
something that caused Charon
to refuse us voyage.

We have some grand role left to play
As lovers
As friends
As something.
The reaper does not want us
just yet.

All you need is love
said John, or maybe Paul.
Argued I once
before I knew
what power love held
before I was enlightened.

Learned my lesson in your arms
became a believer when you smiled at me
and the world collapsed around you.
Love is all you need
said John, or maybe Paul
but definitely Hannah.
Love is all you need.

Kith and kin of Pheidippes
she knows nothing else
lays everything on the line
throws herself into the task
the task of protection.
To stop means of harm, or sorrow
the curse of the coward,
knowing only flight
never knowing love
never finding rest.
She has yet to learn
you cannot outrun the past
for the past is too strong.
Sometimes, dear runner,
you must be still.
Sometimes, dear runner,
you must stand your ground.

"Be careful son, but be free"
You were warned, and yet
higher and higher you flew
closer and closer to Apollo
and your wax wings were melted
with his embrace.

But tell me, Icarus,
was it worth it in the end?
How did it feel
to graze the heavens?
Tell me, dear one,
how did it feel to live violently?
to live carelessly?

"Be careful, son, be free."
You chose to live,
if only in that moment.
Higher and higher you sailed
until your very being insulted Apollo
and with one kiss,
your wings were destroyed.

I cannot escape
your pull on me
like the pull of the moon
tugging on the ocean of my soul
changing the tides within me.

You wake something within me
a curse,
something savage and beautiful.

I, like the wolf
am changed in your light
turned into something new.

I long to run
paws to the ground
long to howl at the night
nothing holding me back
but your gentle, changing light.

So, if you are the moon
if you are change
let me be the wolf
let me be changed.

For the wolf
the Moon is a curse
a foul transformation of pain and shame
forced upon him by nature herself.

For the Sea
the Moon is a cruel lover
forever sending her away pushing her aside
only to draw her back in again endlessly.

For the Poet
the Moon is a torturer
forcing upon her emotions of all sorts
we feel happiness, and love, life and death under it's light.

The Wolf picks himself up once more, survives another night.
The Sea cries salty tears of scorn, but yet she returns once again.
So also must the poet pick herself back up, and carry on another sleepless night.

All my days, I have been lost
drifting from place to place
like the fallen leaves of autumn's past.
Always moving, never settling
for too long.

The day we met was
like coming home after a very long holiday.
Coming home to a place I had never been before,
but feeling all at peace
for the first time.

My existence has been boxes and baggage
dragged there and back again.
Your voice is a comfort,
it says "unburden yourself
stay a while."
and I realize,
that to this wanderers heart
you feel like home.

Alone she walks with her head held high.
In one hand she holds her shoes
holds her worries.
In the other she holds tightly to her dreams
She is wordlessly mouthing
the song of cement.
The pavement is warm against her soul and her soles.

Eyes open, looking but not seeing
only one foot in front of the other
and nothing else matters.
She could walk forever this way,
singing softly,
the song of cement.
The pavement is warm against her soul, and her soles.

Past accusing eyes, and judging grins
She walks forward, in whatever direction suits her,
On any given day she will disappear for a while
her voice building up
the song of cement.
The pavement warm against her soul, and her soles.

Moving no quicker than her thoughts will allow,
a single step at a time
or all at once.
She wanders wherever thoughts and feet can take her.
She is shouting now,
the song of cement.
The pavement is warm against her soul and her soles.