In the pursuit of victory, defeat may prevail,
Love's intensity can sometimes birth hatred's trail.
Chasing dreams may lead to stumbling on the path,
fully trusting yet betrayal may incur its wrath.

Truth's pursuit may uncover layers of deceit,
Efforts to receive can leave us incomplete.
Reaching for the stars, finding emptiness instead,
Building bridges of hope, encountering despair widespread.

Embracing vulnerability may invite wounds to seep,
Fighting for justice but injustice's grip we cannot keep.
In life's intricate tapestry, contrasts intertwine,
The bitter and the sweet, in harmony they combine.

I must have known
the cold face of the sun

so foolish, I fell
for the idea of you
your shadow, my dream

And the Sun loved his people

So much that when he couldn't be there

He left a reminder of his light in the sky

A brilliance in the blackness

One they could look to

One they could hold onto in the dark

And it was his promise that

He would always return

That they were never really alone

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

doves send messages
and in the halls
you do not
look at
me