Raw
Overpowering
Unnameable
These raw states
That our souls
Are overridden with
Belittled to the term
Feelings
Words such as
Love and hate
Used to quantify and
Identify
Yet
Such words
Limit us
Shake us
Imprison
Mute
Tear
****.

You stand so brightly
In a world ever expansive
Holding yourself high with
What little strength
That tiny vessel holds

For you my flower
I would
Cut away the shadows
For you my radiance
I would
Surround you with light
For you my flower
I would
Make sure you are well nourished,
Content.
But for the fear that
I am building a prison around you,
I freeze.

So I let you feel
Winds of ice and,
Darkness prolonged and,
Undernourished soil
But...
But I make sure that,
Whatever you experience in this world...
Isn't​ anything more than you can handle.

I am surrounded by strings.
Strings I can see
And strings that I can't see
Strings that require effort
To reach
And strings that require
No effort at all.

As I lay,
In this woven world,
I hope to chance upon
The string I desire.
But is such a thing possible?
Or do I have to make my own?
How much strength do I need to achieve it?
...
What sort of strength do I need?

As I lay wasted,
Staring at the interlocked strings above,
I struggle to comprehend
What effort is needed
To reach the string I yearn
For so many strands
Interlock to form
One string
And one strand
Changes the string completely.

I revisit a scene once passed
A scene that went by too fast
I unconsciously reach out
And then
Fall into a ditch of murky black.

The first fall, a fall vestigial
The second fall, a fall wistful
Wistful, for I understand
That fall was untasteful
A fall that was not down
But sidewards
Not into a shadow but
A curtain painted black
A curtain that could always
Be drawn back
That is
If you wanted to push past
The strength that you lack.

A fall is a fall
But not always a fall;
In this universe
Direction is relative,
Symptoms and disease
Are not equivalent,
However
It is up to you
To draw back the curtain.

What are the twists
And turns of a string?
How many threads are
Hidden within?
What parts do we see
And what parts do we not?
Is this string the same one
Or have we picked up
Another?

How can we depend on
Our eyes and mind that
Alter images to the very
Moment they are seen...

A person has only one soul in their lifetime.
The soul does not change;
It does not fade,
It does not shine.
However, its world does.

The environment the soul lives in
Is it's body's heart and mind.
Fed by the heart.
Tainted by the mind.
Surrounded by the mind's light.
Surrounded by the heart's warmth.
Naught else can it sense.

Without one, the others flail.
Without the heart, they wander tiredly.
Without the mind, they flutter aimlessly.
Without the soul, they cease to exist.
No base.
No character.

People don't change,
As their soul remains constant.

We are creatures
That live in this moment,
The clearest image,
Is in front of our eyes.
Not before
And surely not ahead of us
But now.

We are creatures
That live for this moment,
Our lives unliveable if
Our goal is out of hand,
Out of reach,
Out of our sight,
It's warmth, lost in the distance.

We are creatures
That live to this moment.
No life is in the future except now.
No life is in the past except now.
No life is in any point of the timescale,
Except now.

What we wish for,
What we reach for,
We should reach for in the moment
Now.