The professor mounted himself in front of the dim room. His questions shackled the students, and his beady eyes craved for attention. The jail cell fell silent, and eye contact hid behind textbooks.

Panic dripped through the air while he patrolled the spacious, white room. The slightest movement could target the next victim. One of the few in the front line of fire, a woman struggled to listen. Her hands hid her young face from the interrogation. She held her breath, drowning in the silence.        

A tardy innocent fumbled through the silence when entering the room. The student’s footsteps echoed as he crawled to a desk in the back of the classroom. The interruption allowed the tension to lift, causing the professor to execute the lecture.      

The young lady exhaled nervously, and her attention drifted out of her shackles. The clock taunted through her tired mind. She thirsted for an escape, to be a refugee. The few minutes remaining in class stabbed through her.

Her eyes wandered across the students next to her. They focused on the professor, took notes; they were alive. She continued observing: why could she not be like the other students?

Instead, she rotted in her chair and in her body, waiting for the class to finish. She wanted to escape. She wanted to be free. She wanted to live.

World is spinning, cars are speeding, wind is racing,
My heart is running, my head is pounding;
Time is wasting.
Strangers are whispering, birds are shouting, people are yelling,
Reality is shaking, my nightmares are living.
Time is wasting.
Where is the silence? Where can all of this stop? Where is the peace?
My watch is ticking.

Please,

Make the clock


Stop--

This is her kingdom.
She stands on top of the world, afraid to look down.
Her crown weighs on her head.

What is the best way to rule?
Whom should she knight?
Can she save her people?

When weapons are drawn and blood is lost,
Will she be able to mend their souls?
When disease drops loved ones to the ground,
Will she be able to nurse their hearts?

Her crown is heavy,
And she is getting weaker.
Worry dwells on her shoulders,

Her mind is cluttered,
Her body is getting worn down.
She cannot sleep with the thought of the possible destruction of her land.
She cannot eat while people in her kingdom are starving.

Her gaze kept out her window.
Her mind wandered, and her body weakened.
While her spirit was living, her body was dying with only good intentions.

Ah, how loud the bird sings in the Spring,
soaring through the pleasant sky,
he carries the world on a wing,
oh, please, do not say good-bye.

The drenched moon draws him back to the nest,
eagerly waiting for the moon to set,
my heart lies to rest,
predicting whether I shall regret.

Counting down to the sun's awakening,
anticipating the sounds of happiness,
with the memories of winter, this is threatening,
knowing once Spring flees, we would both conjure a mess.

But I do not stray,
my heart yearns for his hymn,
cannot run away,
even if the night appears grim.

Your words cage my Body,
But Lines do not define
Nor do Boundaries hold.

Clip these Wings,
Ah, but Flight will not leave me.
Hold me to the Ground,
Oh, but how high I will soar.

Capture me.
Hide me from the world.
Haunt me.

But I will never leave my Cloud.
You see, some are meant to fly.
Some are meant to swim;
Some are meant to run.

Your chains cannot hold
The Strength of the Brave ones.
We will fly.
We will swim.
We will run.

Stupidity fuels me.

It fuels my ego.

It needs to be destroyed before I become a god.

Just sway to the music;
Let your fears drift away.
Try not to lose it
Nor be afraid.

Make your feet tap, tap, tap;
Melt your heavy heart into mine.
Do not let your head wrap
Around the doubts of yesterday.

Lend your ears to the beat,
And throw your worries elsewhere.
Now that you have taken the leap,
You have nothing more to defeat.

Gods, We are,
unaware of Our powers.
The ground sighs and shakes beneath Our feet,
the sky stirs around Our heads,
the ocean cries in Our presence.

Sun is in Each of Us,
We are Light.
Moon haunts Each of Us,
We are Darkness.
The stars are Our guides,
they serve no other purpose.
The flowers are Our beauty,
they sway in the wind We blow.

Yes, there are conflicts,
the World is in chaos,
worry, fear, regret,
darkness, and death are Our own.

But, Dear, the World was made for You,
the air is Your blanket, the stars are Your night light when unwelcomed visitors sweep in Your dreams, the mountains are Your strength when You are weak, the World is Yours.
The World is not in possession,
You cannot disappoint it.

Gods, We are,
only victims to Our own hesitations.