A child
then
an adolescent
growing to be a man-

in my twenties I never doubted
the world had no end
of possibilities-- life
would just gladly hold my hand

and open before my eyes
to all wonders and its generosity lend
as my dreams with such passion I pursued
in every circumstance or at any bend

of time-- but the now before me
is an unwelcome wakening-- a friend
it is not but a teaser and mocker
a spoiler of my every plan

what should an adult
tell a child?  ' I've no message to send
you but just a warning-- beware
when you are older you' d understand

dreams don't last and hopes are fragile
however strong and unwavering you make your stand
living is never an easy crossing and too often
you'd  find yourself walking upon sinking sand?'

5
                   a
               e      r
           y             s

since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life

since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the  deeming tunnel
but still hoping

since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night

Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain

Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream

Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living

Aimless,

She sits sequestered horizontally
Against currents of mindless winds-

Her apathy uncontested
By neither man nor wicked thing.

Flightless,

She flutters hopelessly
On glass wings,

Helplessly

Frail

Are the fragile little things
That hold her head up
Above the towering sea chains-

Her lungs' heavy breaths
Dull her spirit's grin

And all her numbered days
Tick away without a sound-

Engulfed by the ocean's deep breath-

Beneath insanity's serenity-

She drowns.

Here I stand again, by myself
In a different spot, in the same moment.
I've been all my life running through these cycles,
New people, new girlfriend, new activities, new place
As they always do, at some point they run low and I run far,
I keep my distance, enough to get warm, enough so I won't get burnt.
Even so, in the end, I make the
same mistake, everytime a season falls
I stretch out from this safe sacred shell I've built to
protect myself, only to regret leaving, only to regret ever even
building it in the first place. So, as the last leaf falls I'll be there, getting close to the fire and the certainty of getting a deep burn.
I feel pathetic, do you know what pathetic means? It's not what you'd expect,
I'm not what you'd expect,
you're all more than I expected.
Maybe that's my sin, to burn for not letting people in earlier,
to burn and realise it's ok. You don't have to fall in love today, not again. Just kiss her and move on. You don't have to feel alone today, not again. Just hug them and move on.    Tomorrow a new season begins, maybe for a day, maybe for five more years, maybe the last you will ever see.
Do you see some sort of metric in this "poem"? Do you see it's shape unfolding right through your eyes as you read? You're mistaken, it means nothing, it's much simpler than you think, I can never convince you of that, though. And, as the cicada's song, our cycle repeats, it's funny;
It's tragic;
It's real.