Casting astronomical aspirations into the perpetual abyss;
is like playing with fire and an arsenal of arrows
You can hit your target or by a mile you'll miss.
You swiftly fall into the trappings
of saving coppers for a rainy day
Unopened boxes still in their wrappings.
It's easier to look ahead,
Don't you dare turn your head around
to confront the lingering regrets palpable  instead.
Give me hope, future, give me dancing dreams
but I aim at the mountains zenith
and nothing is as it seems.
Blindly,stumbling into darkness
Hand reached out for something-
anything
to anchor me to this realness.
I ache to be the pioneer
for anyone who's hid behind
the pasts cloak and disappeared
To bow out of their performance before it's curtain call
Come back. give yourself a chance
to show them all-
that they were wrong
and your future is bright
because you
learn from whats been and throw yourself into this unwritten song.
So let this be my prophecy
We'll leave our stars more polished and repaired then before
To trust in tomorrow and hold hope dear
we'll make them see.

When I'm being weighed down,
by your heavy rain clouds,
I feel our time running out,
Is this our finale?

I feel like I'm chasing a ghost,
Tracing you along the coast,
a preciousness I treasured most,
What are we worth?

Recently,
I find time evading me,
like a forgotten dream
and I stand frozen in time.

I want to take a train back to Sunday Simplicity,
When I knew right from wrong ,
the distinction was easy.
So I won't circumvent, or pretend
that I want crazy.
but a crazy that's simple
and I know it's what you can't give me.

There I slouched,
hand barely supporting my head,
gazing wistfully at the sunshine, a midst study of the intercepts of ****** circles and lines.
Her condescending baby voice, wafted through the classroom like a stale stench.
Then you,
yes you,
starting pressing the calculator buttons so hard for one moment I thought you'd break it.
I pressed my hand lightly on yours and you met my gaze for a moment,
so in my supposedly light bulb epiphany,
I asked you for a spare pencil.
Your eyes lit up like my terrible idea,
and trouble was being spelled in your flecks of gold.
So, your hand reached in and very slowly lay
pencil,
after pencil,
until it covered the space between us on the gratified desk.
"Fourteen pencils and you can have them all" you said,
before that patronizing  squint swung in our direction
And the shouting began.

I do not need an altar,
or a statue to see your face.
It caresses me in the wildest winds,
shines down on me with golden faith.

As sure as my heart that's beating,
the same as I know night will fall,
when I lie in my bed turning and twisting,
to search for you, it won't be in the confessional.

I embrace you in my victories,
as I stand on the winners podium,
I will not deny, that I evade you
when Thantos corrupts life's equilibrium.

Your my hope that floods my veins,
the signpost that will guide me
The hand that held mine,that warmth,
when you brought me in love with that cup of tea.

Though I don't understand it
or your omnipresent divinity,
Whatever name you choose today,
which ever are the peoples trinity.
Just know,

I don't need a sermon
or sign to hear your voice.
I catch in the nightingales song, the rain like pelting notes on the concrete,
in the innocence of a child's first words, and,
when I hear it and I do
I cannot help but to rejoice.