train lights diffuse their somber luminescence over a person equally, so as to dismiss the illusion that whichever feature is displayed so prominently should become the fixture of one's spirit. your eyes will wander over their eyes, their cheek bones, the curve of their lips. your questions will entail,"where are you going," which lends to,"what must you be leaving?" in place of compliments or condescensions. under train lights, you will remember the person, as opposed to a set of eyes, a grimace, a grin, or the rise and fall of a single face.

Representative of the Ocean;
The under side of galaxies -
depths that man will never come to know,
But will foolishly never cease to search to for.
The tips of waves
Caressing the shore line to meet man once again,
Though it draws its feeble hand back often.
The color blue is
The moment after grieving,
The emptying of great seas.
Temporary peace.

I wish

They had looked at each other

Straight through the eyes

Down to the soul

And did not recite,
but instead proclaim

"I will love you

Through unlucky love,

Through love

That travels across

Oceans, cities, and time

Because at the end of every night

I will sleep

Knowing we share the same skies,

The same stars that grant us the same wishes,

The same God.

And though He is a good deity,

If even God gave us an ultimatum,

We would be denied Heaven together.
(Though when we are together,
Nothing would seem more divine.)
And that is why

We come together

On this fine February evening.”

It was when the
lanterns embarked
on their ember infused journey,
painting a somber September sky
with something more brilliant than the stars.
they carried notes of nostalgia,
told stories with glory and grace,
and signed off with love and remembrance.
Their grievance soon became
a celebration of light,
The concrete palace
burst into tiny flames,
tips reaching for the heavens
and they knew your soul lingered here
And when they spoke,
one by one
with trembling voices
and choking back tears
their words shook the heavens,
invoked despairing cries
but also brought forth
gentle smiles,
knowing all too well
that one day we would be all right.
September 5th,
That was when
I realized life was indeed
Valuable.

4PM
---
Arms intertwine
Fingers lace
A Soft touch,
Thoughts of grace
The whispering rustle
of aging trees
and the autumn breeze caressing
flushed faces.
Flashing wide tooth grins,
Hushed "I love you,"'s
And "Life is great"
In between low chuckles
Waiting for tomorrow's glory.

4AM
---
4 AM
when paper meets pen
relentlessly.
the mind breaks
my whole body shakes,
trembles.
working through calloused hands.
glimpses of the sullen, charcoal sky,
peering through tousled drapes.
spirits are drained
and not a bird
dares to sing
one wistful melody.

I do admire
How our seasons change
Winter's tale
Becomes summer's sonnet.
Quaint complexes
And their uncomplicated dwellers
Existing in solid metronome.
Years skip over
And it's always the same story.
How do you keep your composure so well?
He painted still life on repeat.

Sometimes things
Are better admired from a distance.

Her tattered quill
Has been crafting chronicles
For ages
Most with mixed morals
And chapters of relentless passion
Shared by the wicked,
The naive,
The reckless,
And the virtuous.
Divulging into each finely chiseled character
Their legends, their struggles
Bid to cease only when
Clocks move in reverse
(History may not repeat itself here)
Here we believe
We posses the entirety of the universe.
(Infinity stops at the border
Of silver sheens
And construction beams)
Within our pool
Of blood and glory
The myths are no longer only
Fool's dialogue.
In this city,
They are alive.