I am not my own.
I should remember this
Every time I cry alone.

I was surprised to know
That I can feel comforted in your arms.
I can feel soothed by your words,
You can keep me warm.

I’m not enough for myself
If it’s not safe to be inside.
I realised that when there’s a storm
There’s no place to hide
Yet you become the shelter
I use to confide.

It’s spectacular!
All this time
I missed out on something so simple.
You’ve only ever been an arm’s length away,
And all this time
I thought there was no point in opening up
If there was no place for me to stay.

I am not my own.
I should remember this
Every time I cry alone.

I’ve felt hell
In the centre of my chest,
Scorching heat raised
In the tunnel to my mouth.

I’ve seen hell
In the loneliness of my existence,
In the ambivalent ambiguity
Of evil persistence.
I’ve seen its fire
In the confused laughter,
Its sparks sparkling
In a ruptured rapture.

Its smoke fogs the mind,
And leaves all traces of heaven behind.
And I was left perusing it’s mirage,
Mapping arbitrary patterns on a whim,
Subjectively assuming objective meaning
Perverting the ideals of heaven,
Tearing and rearranging the truth
Limb from limb.

Have you heard of hell?
The scent of burned flesh masked
In floral perfumes,
It’s brightness casts shadows
On those who are doomed?
Hell you know,
The one you revel in,
The one you prefer
The one you preach,
The one you measure,
The one you’ll reach?

I’ve been in hell
And yet I still doubt its existence.
Its hot breath brushes on my ear
And I have dropped all resistance.

What is wrong with me?

How can I see what I have seen
And still welcome the possibility of demise?
How can I afford to compromise my fate for the pleasures gained from a state of denial?
How can I put myself on trial?
How can I withhold the urge to gain heaven’s wisdom?
How can I be satisfied in man’s kingdom?
How can I deny myself true freedom?
How can I see who the devils are
And still want to be them?

Life
In itself is not a means to an end,
But a means to the end,
And in the end
All is left are my efforts
And its fruits.
And I cannot afford to be my own
Bearer of bad news.

A pink sunset
Shines it’s rays over a purple, calm ocean.
The gold of the sun
Shimmers like sparkling fairy dust
Over its tiny ripples.
Cumulous clouds
Express themselves as they sing
Stories of the past in all different colours.
And I stand in joyous sadness,
With a sense of helplessness,
As I surrender to the sheer beauty,
Surrender to the Almighty.