A simple window
A mirror of reflection
I see a balance of tension within its creation
The morning nature arose in its fresh tree pine
Shining itself upon the window's shrine
What do I see?
I spy with my little eye
A sea of independence
And a faction of world pride

Leading forth its beauty
A crack is present on the glass
What could this mean?
Was destruction awake in its past?
Was it a breach of war in its latch?
Or just a simple pile of rough, rocky ash?

A window's future
A glass stain, a mark on impermeability
To be recovered?
Could this be the open solitude of infinity?
Deer with long tracks sheer the day
Upon its past age
Or was it just a present revelation of roadkill...
That subdued its inward rage?
People withstood many triumphs, and
Most filled with anger
Some responsibility taken
Others with pain and no hope to salver
A mirror is worth an antique
Of power and immortality
Not the glass type, but
Our own view of sanity.

Chilling, like a cold
Winter breeze, as it rustles
Sound through pine trees
Circling in repeated motions
Swaying and reflecting
Different angles, and
Different emotions

Gradually moving from side to side
Not faltering, but continuing stride
Against the current
Against the waves
Against the runner

Pushing him back
Almost forcing him to fall
And beckon in the tracks of another
But wait...

How will he get back up?

That's the question we always
Ask ourselves, looking at
Others from a third person
View, but from the eyes
Of wind, nothing else exists

Think about that for a moment
Invisible, yet so strong
Something to put our lives
In full perspective
The thought of a force
That can break us down
In a moment's notice
And just like that
Suddenly, it's gone
Nowhere to be
Found...

I spend so much time
Basking in the silence as time unwinds
Hoping for a moment where I can exhale
From these deep breaths, and focus on my dreams
Without this sharp pain in my side
This feeling of being stressed

All the time.

I've spent nights daydreaming
Howling at my internal moon
In hope that the glare that illuminated
The pitch black sky inside
Would not shed light on the wolf
Or shed tears for the boy who cried
But rather spare those crucial moments
Of wasted time, from which those tears
Left the boy's eye.

The tears that watered a rose
Waiting to bloom alive

I know it's okay to cry.

I know it's okay to not know where
You're going sometimes.

Despite the unsettling emotions that
Surround you like autumn leaves
Worried that if you step on one
They'll play the part of a sidewalk
On Friday the 13th
And someone's back will break
In its wake...
In your sacrifice...
In your hesitation to move along
As you injure your finger pressing
The replay button

As you know very well that it's not the
Memories of times wasted that haunt you

It's the regret of not allowing yourself to fail
During the times you thought failure
Was all that it would lead to.

Love, lies in our emotions
Configuring the chambers of how we feel
In our veins, nerves, and imperfections
That thread to make our curves

Around each maze
The heart senses a new direction to turn
Sensations of familiarity begin to burn

This hurts, not having anyone to love
As I sense myself running in my own maze

With only one mission

To find inside of me, the hope that lies above
Above the darkness in our hate
In the struggles and obstacles we break
And for the moments of glory
That we sometimes cease to create

So I'll swim in this dense river
A body of love like water
And rise above this surface I bleed
So I can rid the hate of this world
And find a way for us to
Truly love another.

Sometimes, I wish my soul
Wasn't so sensitive
I extend my exposed hand out
For others to grab
Sometimes, my reach
Is acknowledged and held onto
Other times, it's crushed
With the overwhelming and
Presumptuous weight
Of being a burden and
A disappointment

This pain is very strong
This suffering tugs and
Drags me down
A sinkhole that I don't even
Notice I'm falling through

Until it's too late
Until I feel lightheaded
When my heart beats
In fluttering patterns
Until my chest tightens
And I feel a knot in my throat

It's hard to swallow this air I breathe
For at times, it's so dense and thick
But there's no fog, no illusion
Just allusions to the fact
That I'm tired...
Fatigued...
Exhausted...
A barren tree
A lot of life to give
But an abandoned seed
In my mind
That's what my demons tell me

This is my story of triumph
That I'm still writing
This is my journey
That I'm still fighting.

Mister, misses
A snake's tongue
To sounds of hisses
A caged bird
The spoken word
Breathe life into me
Or kick me to the curb

For I am human
I am only me
Not justified by anyone
Or anything else
You may see
Picture this, picture that
I'm not looking to offend you
Or contemplate an attack

I have seen myself
From my inner spirit
As I dream the day away
To write a song, and
Perhaps someday, hear it
For music is my passion
And writing is my attraction
And as a wonderful couple
Together, they equal my
Purpose, significance, and
My call to action.