The question is not what can be
But moreso of what will be

We have no idea
Nor concept
Of what the future holds

But if we can somehow
Isolate a finite set of rules
Or principles
We could create a better
Understanding
Or equation

One which we could possibly
Engage each other
And ourselves in,
And delve farther
Into "what if"
Rather than "if what".

A ghost has touched my fingertips
they ache, they shake with fear

Into my feet it flows
and gets hold of me,
grows

This is no joke, love
we should run
before it is too late or before-

what is that?
you shake your head, you're not afraid?

Then I will run alone,
as I use to;
as it has shown to be
my safeguard system

not for me, my love:
for you.

So what if I don't like a poem
and say so?

So what if I don't like people to rhyme
to bridge two edgy lines?

Why, if this rhymes then it is just
due to my humble arrogance -

my love of irony -

and if you like,
just if you really want,

then be my guest and shake yourself
free from those lines
(from all those lines in fact)

and smile,
and now: forget about the rest.

Pick up the Pen,
                Put it to Paper
Write to Write.
        It is your therapy.
                     Where you find release.
How things come out.
              Do not analyze it.
Just do it.
          The words will enact
                    What They Must.
Most things will be for you
              Because you have allowed the turmoil.
Why do you fear?
          Why find it so hard,
                                             discouraging,
                     Unpowered
To allow your passion,
                                       Learn the knowledge.
Daunting,
                  Yes.
End goal?
                None.
                             So far
                                 Right Now.
Lost from Home,
        from touch,
        from tender allowance
                                 to be so calm
Not on the edge
               Wistfully walking this manicured path.
Though I do not believe they exist.
                      At least not wholly.
Some things get easier,
                      A path you do not have to clear,
Sadly most fought through.
                  Know what you need to do.
Why can you not find the energy?
                                     the desire
                                     the anything
To sit down and read what angers you,
                            That anger feeds the passion
Passion such a daunting task,
                                               repeatedly kicked down.
So much courage lost,
                                      Not built,
               Drained away
Must learn to step forth,
                                         Crash into what is there
Just go out,
                     You make yourself alone
Trying to end
                        The endless cycle.
Trying to gain some advantage
                        Over this creeping Darkness.

In the mercy caul of night,
Where time is frail as memory,
In the technicolor film of ocean salt,
With eyes of yearn and mute wonders,
There, I saw you once more.
We walked through the rushes green
Of warmth, broke into dreams dawning
Meadows of casting light, where winged
Creatures, colourful as we, lilting in midair
Spiraled, drifting through the gleaming
Thoroughfares of endless Mays, of tingle
And flame, where once before, we found
Ourselves at the misty plateaus reflection
Of star shine and flight, nary silhouetted,
Yet, framed in the snow melted tarns
Of golden, glorious, Olympus.