We walk through life, and people arrive and depart
Efforts lost and smiles maintained although
The thought still remains that we all connect
With others in compliment for we are not all the same

Friends and family are our common associations
But the true delight is to come across new relations
The very spark that occurs is the beauty of deliberation
That a new: character, face, life will bring our soul transfiguration

What would our lives be without other beings?
Purely a mundane existence fueled by utter neutrality
Just having the dear glow, voice, and presence
Of another is enough to bring light to our own existence

There are times when we are alone, tired, and displaced in our world
We just need comfort of another the understanding of their word.
They know what to say in times of need and the same upon our position
These are our lasting friends, the faces we age with, and tear with love in consideration

In general when someone is shadowed by life lend your heart
For while they may not show gratitude, your sentiments will impart

True criticism
Whether constructed or impulses for the moment;
Taken or not, to be offended by it
Is to be aware of an interjected potency.

A toxin of a so-called realization to drive towards sin
Or perhaps self-actualization, to whom we are within

Mind differs from soul, on the division of what is human.
The thought conveyed is lacking in being, rather than seeing.

Applying logic as a constant is grounds for ill confidence.
In a quality that droughts in tears from a cyclic existence

The thoughtful thrive on selfless striving
to be heard, immortally by their reviving words

The self-centered gravitate to absent causes
assisting no one, and becoming less heard

But sincerely who is right to judge you and me
Bias surrounds us, traps us to filter what we see and believe

Faith is lost to a logical world, where action is questioned
And the metaphysical will soon be poisoned by what is known

There are lights
Not meant to succumb to blight
Of the true dissension of Adam’s apple bite

He plays a tune hand calloused and all.
Face against the blue filled with malice
Flashing a florescent blissful green
Changing all so lightly still

Leave him alone, sunset to sunrise
Pondering birth to death.

Crimes of our very own human dignity
Imprisoned, for our clawing entity.
Plays shadows beside this fluttering sail.
A pale veil that will bring us no avail to bail;

Light hearted the human soul is not.
Weight within ignorance and defiance
the mind is consumed by all reflection
bland or complex, life has no attention.

Stained glass windows, black widows
Rainless mornings, and frivolous sermons
Taken to the tortured girth of human doubt.
We are lightless and stationary only to run.

Along the shoreline, faith is not receding
Only seldom visited.
Replaced by the capture and rapture
Of virtually tangible lights;

News no longer plays homage to heart
Rather lies rampaging the feeble apart.
Pessimism parallels reality.
Rendering sin’s originality.

Our causes parallel pauses
Making these changes in duality
Deafening intrinsic viability,
only to expunge identity.

Looking back at the advertisements
Across the widely boarded stilts
Lit to view by admitting at will
Driving forward looking back still

Lessening my steps, walking in the breath of my own soul
Faded, guided by her voice a midst the night’s artic scowl

Absence of calming pulses to divert my alert listening
But Weakened, cold, yet continuing
All that follows is, being glad to see you smiling

Forgetting about you, why can’t I just be your friend
There is too much to account, too much to loose by this trend

I don’t’ know where this may end before I come to mind
That someone, elsewhere by serendipity will be my godsend

Inside you know, and though that maybe so
I cannot say nor imply because you are not clear also

Being beside another is enough to relate to another
But being at their side in there time of need, and somber
Is enough to consign emotion in wanting to be their significant other

Escaped, is that truly the objective adjective
A feeling perhaps everyone has projected
Or are we seeking within filling to feel secure
Are we affixing words for our selfish cures

Let us take our thought and dissect its pieces
Fit the jigsaws, does it compliment with ease
Photographs stuck on milk cartons like cement
The directive is the fleeting human element

Living in ones past, shadowed assurance from last
Foibles of human inquiry questioning with haste
Lapsing the collective logic of the inner sage
Soul bombarded, thwarted, strengthening with age

Examine not observe nor merely think your being
Vignettes to films are you truly sure your seeing

We wish that all our troubles would subside,
And let the wind change the wave of the tide.
But there, our thoughts glamour in sun rays
Falling reflections and crashing these bays.

Listening attentively, a whistling screech
The clamoring tuning to this breech;
That caused the waterfalls from these caverns
Sheltered crevices of depth and humility

Falling all so effortless to answer these calls,
That wants nothing less than it all.
A request not even a personal petition
That lay waste to all conditions.

Here at last, this night and every time
I cannot fall to slumber here
Where days of summer pass time
Insomniac to tomorrow’s fears.

I just want peace in all of our minds
Without the helix of the progressive bind
A want less satisfaction with no expectation
But to see one another with no deviation  

Duality perpetuates in our eyes’ receptivity
To transcend from it is to venture away from this reality.

Can not distinguish my breaths
Why I take in these threats
That takes grasp
Of my fair air
That clears my internal affairs

And though it seems my anguish
Is lost to the polished scheme
I have ingrained within my eyes
I am reminded again and again

In abstract I contract a line
That fools the absolute
To the Fin
Only finding the rules dilute
To a drinker of truth
Facing the sky

With the clouded justification
To find association
In the tone
Of the polarities
Sincerities
To merge into
Middle linear ties

Overtaken by java sages
Virally programmed by ages
Of systematic impulses,
All false
The need, strength, and balance
Is a mediator
That is an open instigator

Over and moved closer
Holding on
I might lose her
Not in my own right,
Of emotional plight
But a fight fought long
Within each song
Fused for this muse
Doing wrong to my mind
All along, is this poet wrong?

Have I exposed it all?
That there is nothing left
To transpose to proses
Or is this a step
I have yet to step on to

These words these mere
Entendres in parallel to
My daily tears for fears
Vice viscerally seared

Repeatedly, incessantly
To attempt to understand
That Socratic it is, to withstand
The frantic resolve, to accept
That there is something
In nothing