I lay in the cold grass.
It’s prickling and tickling my body.
But I lay there anyways.

My eyes wide open.
I look to the sky.
As if the sky was a vast blue sea. Waiting to be conquered. Waiting to be explored.

The stars are out.
As if they were all those sailboats returning home. Millions and millions of lights looking for a place to go.
Eternally sailing.

The moon is full.
As if it was the light house that’s guiding them back.
Mesmerizing anyone who looked into the light.
Blinding my soul.

Not a cloud in sight.
There is no tide.
Everything scattered
but just where it should be.

I reach my hand out,
as if to grab something.
Anything.
This masterpiece I could never reach.
Trying to embrace it with my thoughts.
Trying to take a mental picture as to never forget.
Letting it know that someone admires it.

And as it reflects in only my eyes,
I think to myself:

“Maybe you’re watching this too”

oft they've inquired as to
why their poems don't trend
this is a mystery only known
at the algorithm's end

a random pick done
by a selection device
inside the computer program's
unspecified dice

it is hoped that this brief
explanation gives some insight
as to how an anthology
receives the green light

I open the window as often does
as the bronzy blinds fall on the sill
the sun still hiding under the clouds
At 0809 simmers of its hope pride
riding through the cases of my soul
calling on the winter brimming sun rays
lighted with love and pure remedy of life
dreams come to glare with kaleidoscopes hues
rainbows of chakras aligning deeply
as the gaze follows on, two suns stands
halos of two celestial giants bright as ever
one follows on the other, smiling on
Is Planet X closely approaching earth?
those sequence of the Nibiru cataclysm
conspiracies of eventual near miss
or collisions of the Sumerian mythology
presently pulling shifts on the flat earth
ever questioning the mass extinctions
and all the hidden truths as we snooze in routines

morning light shines through the heavy canopy,
i know it because the ground is pink in places it should be brown
even though i can't actually see the light for myself.
i swear i heard your voice call out to me
from the other side of the clearing
but when i looked there was nothing but the trees and the wind.
today i woke up and your cologne was caught in my nose
i don't know how you do it,
how even the most physical, real things
are still able to haunt me
even though you're not here.

yesterday was a harder day than today
somehow i'm getting though it all, laughing, smiling
the tears are no longer because of you
i think that i've moved on,
or at least processed it all enough to try.
and yet i'll let my guard down for a moment
this life in the forest is nothing close to boring
but there are moments when all i have to do is sit and stare up into the leaves
wait for the light to poke it's way through in the slight way that it does
when i space out
and always come back to the way that your hands felt on my body
in every place i never wanted you to be able to reach
that look in your eyes
the things that you said.
it takes a moment for me to forge my way out again,
to focus back on the bark of the tree in front of me
instead of the whispers that transport me to the memories i don't want to see
and remind myself that they're only echos
and echos can't actually breathe.