Once upon a time, I knew you.
Innocent, alone, quiet, but it all seemed like
A bad case of deja vu.
You knew me once, twice, thrice...
I knew,
You have the power to make our world
Or destroy it.
Despite this, I faithfully
Maintained the only promise I've ever made.

Once upon a time I felt the sun
Kiss my face and the wild breeze
Tame my hurting soul.

But now, I only feel the present.
All I know now is the emptiness
Of having everything torn away
From you.
This emptiness you brought me--
Let me repay it
As many times as you will allow me.

Or until
We return
To once upon a time.

i begin to recognize the smile on my face
and a single rogue thought runs across my mind
looks like, i have to start over now

Mom said she held the moon in her arms,
Quiet, majestic, the master of the twilight.
But her brother, the brightest of their time,
Prophesied that I was the sun,
Shining a light of my own upon all I touched.
He said so himself. And,

Over a decade later,
His light has flickered out.
The only traces of him left
Lie in the dusty corners of untouched memories
At which we toss glances in spare moments.
He isn't forgotten; he lingers in the words
Mom chooses and the choices I try to make,
And the dream I struggle to live.

Because, the truth is,
I'm searching for the light he saw in me.
Perhaps that has gone out like him. Perhaps,
His words were just memories, too.
Perhaps the light he'd seen had
Never really existed, actually.
It's easier for me to believe that than to
Believe the words of a man I never met.

But I know,
He hadn't meant for those words to follow him to his grave.
Dear mamaji, I'm trying very hard.
I want to fulfill the destiny you believed
I held in my hands.
Your words are trailing behind me in a faint echo.
But,
Sometimes I can hear them.
And I'm filled with a bit more light than before.

the man who lives at the top of the mountain
does not know of the life at the root of his tree.
he needs not strain himself to touch the clouds,
and has never found himself in such a position.
from atop his throne at the summit, he peers
at the world, sitting alongside his feet, and he
snickers. such a man could have a heart of
unwavering ignorance, built by the icy castle
he stands upon. and thus, it was necessary for
Fate to push him off his mighty pedestal . . .

and suddenly, he was not king of the world.
he found that every human
was the same as he, but so vastly varied as well;
their hearts chimed of their own accord,
but together at the same time;
their voices were strong alone and
powerful when congregated;
their eyes met the colors of the rainbow
and found those same colors within themselves;
and the sky was, alas,
too far to reach.
and what, may you ask, did they do?
they have done as you have,
laughing at the patterns of the clouds,
gazing at the messages of the stars,
and determination filled their veins
as they sought to reach the sky in their own ways.
a single mother sends her first child to college;
a doctor manages to save a life;
a couple or more find eternal love;
a single person chooses life over death at the edge of a bridge.

and it was in these ways that the man learned,
his mountain was the flattest plain in the world.
the mountains lived within people, and there
his icy castle gave way to a little bit of
hope,
a little determination.
and he gazed at the sky the same way they did.

is the life of one person
worth a family's freedom?
is the life of seven people
worth a kingdom's liberation?

after a life was stolen from me,
i deemed this to be proper payment.
but after stealing six lives,
i suddenly have found myself
hesitant to take a single step further.

you long for home, so you have journeyed this far.
we have longed for something akin to a new home.

but the look in your eyes say,
even if it meant you could see your family again,
you would not steal another life.

so then, why have i carried on this long,
pushing along this false sense of righteousness
alone?

A million miles over
Cities toppled over like broken glass,
Raging waters with pointed teeth,
Familiar hands lost to the journey,
And hardships nobody on this
Seemingly godforsaken planet
Deserves to endure,
And at the very end of the very last mile,
What right do you have to say,
"You are not welcome here"?
Have you seen the fire that burns
In the orphaned children?
Have you seen the blood of your loved ones
Spilled across your feet?
Have you faced death in the eyes and
Felt his presence in your shadows?
Or have you instead,
Thought the valiantly wandering refugees as
A threat to your quiet life?
I ******* dare you
To look their people in the eyes and tell them
They could be suspected of being terrorists.
I suspect them of being nothing but humans,
Because assuming the worst from not one, but
An entire population--
What kind of logic is that? And
What kind of heart do you have that cannot see
People in need? People that need a place,
If even temporarily, to call home?
Rather,
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot find the good in people to
Cherish as if you knew their name? And
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot open your own eyes to the dystopia that is our world
And try to help at least
One
Wandering soul

your flowers are beginning to bloom
in my heart,
and i know that i shouldn't fall in love
because weeding it out will be too hard,
but alas,
your flowers are too colorful
and aromatic and
captivating,
i can't help but
lose myself in you.
and i want so desperately to
brush your petals softly with my fingers,
but i almost would rather
watch from afar
in fear of ruining the entire garden.

and i don't know if you're much for gardening
but if my flowers sprout within you,
let me know