Just
run in
head
first and don't
worry
about it.
Experience will
show you
everything
My
dear

You took my hand and asked me to dance,
But I was far too tired to do so,
The simple act of walking being far beyond
My limited capabilities at that point.
I had been reduced to hugs and kisses,
And tales of how glorious my past lives had been,
And holding hands.

I wondered if I should let go- it seemed so different,
From any I'd ever held before, that hand.
For years I'd held others with the sole
Intention of drawing pain away-
I am not capable of creating happiness,
And I've never claimed otherwise.

Your hand had no pain to draw away though,
Or at least none that I could find,
Which startled me (All the others held so much!)
I had thought I knew all there was to know about hands-
Their needs, and all the varieties they come in.
How they all needed comforting in different ways
For similar ailments- grief, loneliness,
Heartbreak, being among the most common.
I'd even learnt to hold phantoms limbs for a few.
I'd move the pain aside, lessen it, or sometimes
Even take it as my own, releasing it when no-one else was looking,
Into a stone, or an abandoned old house.

But your hand simply said "I am here to be held."
It shocked me so much I didn't realise I was
Walking again. You glided gracefully ahead
As I clunked behind, unsure of myself,
Holding on to you, trying to figure you out
In the short window of opportunity I had left.

I saw it as our interlocked fingers departed.
Somewhere in the webbing between your ring
And index fingers on your left hand
Was what I had been searching for all along.
I won't go into detail about what I saw
(Our pain is no-one's business but our own),
But I saw it though, far more beautifully arranged
Than I thought was ever possible,
Noticing you had stolen some of mine
When I wasn't looking, and wondering
How much damage I had done.

I don't know whether I danced with you or not,
The release answered so much while
Explaining not quite enough.
I watched you, enraptured by the way
The pain never once showed
Through those beautiful, happy eyes,
Which never seemed to break.

Now I wonder if I had held your palm
Not too little, but far too much.
The pain I saw was labelled thus-
"Life experiences- Please don't touch
All is well. Please remain calm."

She said she can't feel her face
Right now I can't feel my heart
For your feelings there's no place
but you knew that from the start

I've asked myself often,
Why am I here? Whats my purpose?
And in moments of madness when the rising sun is mine and I alone can grasp the clouds and shape the light.
In those groggy half-steps off a bus in Somewhere, America, where the stars grip the horizon and the incandescent glow of a sleeping city bleeds into the twilight,
I always find my answer.

I am here,
To ride until I am passed out on strange shoulders as tired and tense as my own.
To be rained out and washed up against gas station sanctuaries.
To be a friendly face to those who know only a few in this sea of tight lips and laser focused eyes.

I am here,
To tear cotton candy skies into road maps to there.
To pull light into the darkness and turn these chains into prisms that splash color into the void.
To rip out stitches just to see the blood because there is no beauty without pain and perception is everything.

I am here..
To find the small things.
To indulge in a microcosm of bliss.
A fresh sandwich on the highway.
Five dollars passed from a strangers hand.
A cadillac cigarette.
The whispering of trees,
Distant rolling thunder.

The road owns my soul and a devil has possessed my feet.
I am here to cast my own blend of fire into the world.
I am here,
To wander.