Perhaps we should take comfort in our insignificance. The universe is indifferent. It neither needs or care for our existence. All the reason we need to care about one another is that our existence is so transient. It is most likely we will not revisit this or any other life, so why not treasure those by our side, and be kind to strangers for that reason alone.

There is a wrinkle
in my heart,
blood flow slowed
to naught,
chest tightening
in anxious observation,
facing
a thousand people
suffering
loudly and silently
at the same time.

This is the frame of mind
that breaks the branch
that reaches for hands
which never come.

Heroes never fly by
the midday sky
to swoop in
and save the children
from their depression.

This is my obsession
the passion of pain
painted in prose
and poetry,
me pathetically
trying to reach humanity.

I should take it more seriously.
Yet, foolishly I continue rhyming.

It is out of love
not callousness
that I continue this
poetic struggle.

Life shifts
from daylight shades
of cloudy grey
and turquoise
to dark blue.

I train my eyes
heaven ward
to watch
for a sparkle
of you.

Looking for the twinkle
of my grandfather’s
ancient eyes,
looking for
the perfect star cluster
to help me realize
that his memory
still lies
behind my eyes.

I look for a trigger
that I figure
will spark
the memory
of his bearded voice,

but this night
is not good enough
to remind me of
the lost one I love.

So, I slip and surrender to
the sadness of
missing the missing pieces.
Cause my memory
of deceased family
has been fragmented
and distorted by time.

It was a bright and beautiful
brand new day
as she crossed the courtyard
with a lullaby on her lips,
saw the swans take off and fly,
then slowly descend
dipping their delightful necks in
the once still water
that was now surely stirring.

A sweet tune tantalized her tongue
as she hummed
something that bordered on forgotten,
it was powerful
but only echoed,
imperceptible
in her unconscious mind.

A fire swept through
her anxious gut
as she struggled
to recall
something she was certain
was important.

A dog barked.
Bees buzzed
about their honey making business.
She was certain
even anxious
she would not forget this,
but she missed
the magic of her musical muse,
and cursed herself
for not remembering the tune.

Time obscured
dawn’s radiance
the day died
a brilliant turquois
to dark blue and blackish
death,
and stillcont.
the song would not come.
It hovered within
her breath.
It beat beneath
her soft blossoming chest.
A tear fell
as she struggled
to unforget
the song she had lost,
but even in sleeping
and waking
the wonderful melody
would not return.

It is those depths
that people share,
painful truths and all
that make people human
and tragically
beautiful.

It is the pain
that connects us,
when we realize
we suffer similar
sorrows,
these experiences
open us up
to empathy,
making it
harder to be
cruel.

A random thought;
If we absorb
the stimuli
that surrounds us,
then everything
around us
becomes part of us.
So, by running
from the world
are we really
trying to escape
ourselves?

People retreat
further and further
into religions,
politics,
consumerism,
or chemicals
to avoid
confronting
painful truths.