My mind is a rattling cage,
Spitting fire toward empty furnaces.
Nothing grows in this barren land,
No fruit, no soul, no thriving bloom of spectacular imagery
Can I not think? Have I lost my mind?
My dreams as hopeless and dry as a rusted desolate home,
craving to have use.
I see beauty, I feel it in my bones. I hear it in the voices of the wind
and the sky.
      It shrills through the dust, lifting stories to the wind.
But I cannot paint it. I cannot sing it. I cannot write it,
      for the appetite of my meaning
I am lost.

I've seen the beauty
of the trees

the way the sun glistens
through tangled leaves

In the chaos
of this eyeless world

I can't even try
to believe
It's nothing at all

Why is love so hard?
Its bites you with its piercing sting
It tames you with its frightening claws
Far beyond your power, once caged within

It hurts, when they hurt
you cry, when they cry
bleed when they bleed
and crumble when you try
to help them

because it makes you weak to empathise

Yet
with the force of a gale,
it stands
      firm against the wind

You have no choice,
no choice
     but to give in

It hurts the place in your heart,
             where theirs
    is cradled, safe

So you try to be soft
when they rage
Try to be sweet
when they're bitter

because you know they'd do the same for you
and to maintain balance,
for yourself

But
  this is the sacrifice we make,
                      the risk we take

and that's why love is beautiful.

There is nothing so precious
as naivety
in the keen, exploring eye
of a child

It is easy to trust what is known

But to trust concept,
to rely consistently on the unknown
requires courage and grace
beyond human power,
outstretching the capacity of our heavy,
selfish hearts

So the fact that we try
is a remarkable riddle in itself
Thus, I am burdened to ask:

Why do we try
if there is nothing at all?

It seems in this life
there are those who sit still

and those who simply cannot
for the size of the world is too great,
the desire for more too strong,
the aching for change too wild to contain

Those left behind
can only try to forget the dawning of the end,
suppress the fear of wasting it,
shut out the noise of the tick tick ticking clock
on the dusty old windowsill

Find comfort over danger,
somewhere to rest their bones
safety over risk,
home

which seems easier because

Once we begin to search
We never return

I am turning 18
On a cliff edge

I see nothing before me

If take one step forward I'm afraid I will fall
into a vast, empty desert

no path, no directions, no map to keep me safe

As a child I looked ahead, thought I'd known my way,
have it all figured out for the arrival of the day
Doctor, teacher, lawyer,
writer,
It seemed simple at the time

But I am turning 18
On a cliff edge,
and I'm terrified.

There's a craving in our skin,
a rhythm in our hearts
Our eyes flash, excitement sparks

when they meet
we are forced to smile

and I've felt this way for while.
First caught sight of you,
noticed how your eyes were blue,
your skin like milk, cool on the breeze,
your voice soft in the wind

I can't look away

Isn't this perfect, paradise?
Or merely a desire,
passing, blind, fading, physical,
Quick to melt with the sun
When the winter of our love
comes around?

I woke up two nights ago,
a heavy weight in my chest,
knowing that you would leave

then I knew my heart was gone,
my rib-cage empty,
I stumbled to the door

In my fear I stared
into the ghostly sky of the city
Where no stars were hung

but I saw a plane above
which may have carried you
You, carrying my heart

They often say 'you stole my heart'
as if it was no choice
and yes, it was beyond my power,
this is a wondrous force
but I would give and give
three thousand times again
the vessel of my being,
the source of my existing,
the reason for my breathing
to you
because
you are this too

I don't believe I will get it back
any time soon.

Who are we
If we change
according to the whether
of which, who, what, and where
Whether somebody else is there
I live and I be, according to the we
According to an us,
not a me
Do we possess individuality?
When adaptation is our constant falsity?
Although we each see through our own narrow eyes
It's a singular perspective
surrounded by lies
The world is one,
our hearts are one
It's true
This must be
So who am I?
Who are you?
Who is
humanity?

It's hard to speak
when the quiet prevails

When the truth dawns
with all home entails

A storm strives to ****,
destroys my fragile soul

I call it 'home'
but it's not home at all

It's time to say it
That cruel, senseless word
which hovers an uncertainty
of whether we will meet again

Goodbye,
to a whole world of possibilities
to a whole world of me
As I return with reluctance
to reality
where truths are like splinters
to what is easy
Where realistic and good
are faithful enemies
and I must choose
one,

and I can't do it alone
I'm blind for where to start
I can't see where to turn

So Goodbye,
It's been wonderful
I know I must be strong
Goodbye, to all the ropes which
I know must now be torn

Still, a space will linger
in the center of my heart
for all the friends,
memories,
faces

But most of all
the future,
for this
      is not goodbye.