Comfortable syllables flow from the mouths of preachers
who tell us the words don't matter, only what's
etched incurably in our hearts.
But we know better
We must flee to be free from the gazes of perfectly winged eyes, standing upright next to suit jackets and pristine ties.

And the pleas offered up from our minds are never headed in the right direction, the one all the rosaries and pews point towards- we send
our message up to Heaven, taking avenues that even we can't comprehend. And no one believes because they won't spare
just one second.

They see the worth only in the hours squeezed out of organized bodies
and the tangible gifts and the pounded out work deliberately presented, but every hair stays in place and not one drop of sweat falls and they wonder why religion is not an appealing call
because they've lost the point under all of the
lipstick and lies they lather on.

It's absurd to grasp the notion that any god wants to hear from
a pack of perfect praisers,
raising their children to pray the same way they've always done.
There's no way to find your voice under all the babies crying and cries ringing and the fierce scolding of every beautiful thing.

So our prayers remain hidden, buried deep in the wind that carries them away. We pray every second of every sequestered and lonesome day. We fill up our spirit in the way we hope as we desperately pull on our clothes that today we won't be too late.

We lift up offerings in the tortured songs our tears sing as they run over all the keys engrained in our faces by all the fingers that forlornly stroked our cheeks.

We pray by shaking our fists at the sky as the trees rock and sway, upset by the storm that heads our way, as we fall to our knees because we've no better way to express our need than to let it seep from between our clenched fingers.

Every swish of a desperate eyelash, momentarily hiding the lake frozen inside is a viable thank you that at least no one treads the length of our ice and a request that one day it will melt and even if it leaks from between our lids, we will be able to let it go

Every moment, birds fly from our chests, greeting
the infinite clouds with timely beggar's leaves clutched in their mouths

Misery is not what we claim, but as we walk, we pray, each step pleading for a better path to follow and a heart that doesn't beat with
everyone else's blood pounding so hard
against our own

Would anyone like to know why
Living is the scariest thing,
Why success is the hardest to achieve?

Well,
It’s because you
Are the only thing that can make you
And the only thing that can break you.

All my life I’ve wondered
      What in the world put me here?
And when the colors glide together
      I must lean back from
  what I see to
        get a better look
    The vivid edges show me
  what time has really done with
my rain-filled skies and
       happy smiles
What movement has
Created from my birth and
    what change has had
  me realize
The events multiply into a
       saga of choices and
things beyond my
       reach
  When pondering my achievements
         I remember the
       simple moments,
              choosing to be cordial
        and the lasting seals I’ve
            left on
                 this place
   If just one indefinite thing lives
    longer than I do
    it’s been worth it
       And even at my pessimistic peak,
   I know that if
    my most horrible deeds have been
coming into possession of someone else’s pen
   and having too much of a good thing-
       words, lips, and candy-
     I’ve done more good than bad
But though I try to pull
       my slack in my
       stronger moments
I can’t quite tauten the string
  of happenstances
        Mine.
   However, this necessitation
teaches me to use my greatest abilities
     the
        first time and I’ve
learned too much to
     be forced to ponder slighter
           things for long
                 It is just the
most important questions of
  this life that
            cause me to sit and wonder
               like
                       the reason I am
                          a pawn of the world
a servant of God
   ballet is beautiful
       but a wordless story seems
            to leave one wanting something
    more and
          when I’m gone I need for
    there to be tastes of my spirit
             in vision and mind
      contentment to replace the ordinary dissatisfaction
          my trunk can grow tall but
        if only a spattering
     of leaves grow from
         branches not reaching vary far
what is the point of growing for so long
           yet if I’ve taught
     children to look deeper
              than crust and see core
     without having to search
                surely I’ve
     achieved a perfect score
             if I’ve molded minds towards
fondness of justice
       I’ve implanted a sound instinct and I hope
     you’ll always trust it
        if I’ve shown anyone that
a full life is gained by
      simply not discounting anything
    I’ve been competent toward my goal.
Why come closer when
         I can hear everything
   here and when
       stress turns it all awry and impossible
    all one has
   to do is
        acquire realization
that success is achieved
      solely by keeping the fire going
another day
       being about
to see all of the
junctures one can overlook
      even the teeth-gritting occasions
        can be
          turned over onto a smoother
side and I
       think most happenings of life are
beautiful
     a tiny boy wondrously tugging soft twists
the night’s skies under a girl’s eyes from
           drowning in pages the previous night
               putting
paint on your nails and orange peels over
            your teeth
                colorful shoes and
            chocolate cake and a
          first kiss on your 14th birthday, even
                    being too scared to ride
   or mourning a dog’s death
      or getting fired for standing up to a
      cruel boss
   holding it too long and
   fights over basketball
              because each and every commodity
               should open your eyes
           to the fact the you are alive
                  (you pick the situations you
                         stay in for
                             the most part and
                                           you have the power
                                            to make
                                                  change)
                                        and I hope you see that
                                          living is not
                                          living
                                                 with no risk
                           every minute is worth it and
                                   nothing happens without reason
                         I want you to see that my confidence of
                             a full life comes
                          from every moment that made it up and
                that my life’s greatest regret
is that I don’t remember every day in it.