These are the sounds of the Harp,
Life strings from a mind dark,
to a light laugh, it defines sharp.

So surviving in these times are hard
for a kind heart.
I live life like the tides are
so I turn of the lights fast,
need to be blind, lost
stray with my mind far..

To shut out the pain of day and celebrate the nights march
then you'll see that my smiles are..
Nothing but a fine mask
master this craft that is life, it defines art.

So I ask myself where the signs are..

There are demons in my minds past
so what you find in my eyes; loss
lost like the tides are

There are times where i couldn't see love
in a light year, trying to find balance
yet you can't escape the strife there

So I stood in this light
yet all I did was find fear
but self love is right here

in facing the light of day
the rays of light
within the fear of living in your righteous way
It's tough finding Angels in what I have to face today

A hard rhythm from the strings of a smiling harp
giving me a tiny break but do i want to fight today?
So I escape from these rays
Now life making punches on my second name
Didn't know it was a ******* feint,
Shoulda fought instead of trying to catch a break
I'm tired man so let me have some rest today
or are you trying to catch a case?
you looking like a kid
making haste the way you reaching for a hit on that second base

So even if I'm walking through a cliff or a mountain range
I won't stray through mist or the morning haze
So what you give is a night dark
but will find light in a smile lost
life's strings play straight from the harp
I survive with a kind heart

In a constant state of slumber and waking.
Being the same being,
being everchanging.
Losing myself and searching,
stumbling upon and finding.
Drifting in the shadows,
face changing with different lighting.
I can't explain. I'm silent.
Strings attached to violins.
Sincerity masking violence
from inner strings that chime in.

Everything feels connected
but the space between my face and mask
is a layer of self rejection.
You can see I'm sometimes vacant,
that's when my emptyness is present.
Thoughts that stir a fog,
adding another layer in a second.
You can see I'm trying to wake up,
yet love has trouble reconnecting.
That's when some of you say may name
and bring me back and that's my blessing.

I peel layers off of me
bit by bit, flake by flake,
thought by thought.
Deeper.
Until blood drips.
Wounds fester.
Tears flow.
Salt burns.
I peel.
I dig. I struggle. I lose.
I dive.
Deeper.
I doubt. I fear. I crave. I long.
I need.
Deeper.
I reject. I loathe. I hate. I forgot.
I despise.
Deeper.
I run. I Lie. I manipulate. I escape.
I cry.
Deeper.
I obsess. I regret. I confess.
I detest.
Existing.

Deeper.
It's empty. There's space.
Room to breathe. I'm there
A presence.
I understand. I fill the space
I have with me and stretch.
There's room to grow. I plant a happy tree. A seed. A present.
I dug so deep, in the soil of me to plant a seed that lasts forever.

little pockets of dread.
Grey and cold.

I'm a withering leaf,
in the painful process of letting go.

My skin tears.
Flakes of despair falling in winter.

My heart cracks,
bark besides the road.

Came from far turned into a long way home.

Footprints through the mud,
woven shoelaces from dried grass.

An abandoned heart.
Soul shelters in an empty chamber.

Tears in a storm.
Grief hiding amongst drops.

In the presence of lastig absence,
thoughts staring at an empty canvas.

Little pockets.

An immortal flame
Absent, yet enkindled
It resides in me and you
An awareness we gave
eachother when our eyes met
When our smiles opened
the windows in our eyes
and we could see the same candle burning
How could we forget?
We never have
It's just the drama of going through birth
The fleetingness of life
and the wisdom of us as a child
that was washed away to time
Because let's be honost
we both were a long way from home
But our candle still burns my dear
And our home is still ours
let's spend some time together
I've missed you and I wonder how your day went.

The cold rain
is a pleasant companion
compared to the ever absence of drought.
The settling dust just dwindles around
it provides no coat of comfort
like the countless raindrops that are crashing upon me.
I miss an arm around my shoulder.

Sincerely yours,

Vulnerability