The time for brooding is over
Let them say I invented the stars
when they were born
That I weaved the fabric of the universe
while I remained awake at night
Let them see that I'm no longer suffering

For tears are no more than mist
And my irises are the color of laughter
Laughter which I crafted from sunlight
So they can say that I breathe tempests
And spring's flower petals float in my bloodstream
Let them see I'm more than what I was

For the sky is the face of unraveled smiles
Where masks are shattered shards
And truth is blatant on heaven's eye
Now they can say I am true
That I am in every blade of grass
And every pebble on the riverbed

So now let them say what they want
For they can see
I have been my own nightmares
Just as now I am my own dreams.

What is the meaning of existence?
existing only by another's assistance
assisting you to go the distance
distancing you from life's persistence

what is the meaning of creation?
creating a life long vacation
vacationing in the land of starvation
starving to let go of temptation

what is the meaning of conception?
conceiving our own deception
deceptive practice of perception
percieving the meaning of our inception

I saw the sunrise spreading across the sky in an orange hue
It was a breathtaking view
I will be searching the sky for future sunrises
I wonder what other colors I will find

He was the blue sky
She was the rain
He was the sunshine
Who took away all her pain

She was the black sky
In the middle of the night
He was the brightest star shining Reasurring her
That it will be alright

She's an old untuned piano
With dust on the keys
But he sits down
And makes beautiful music from her
But she never ever will see

He was the smell
After the rain
She was like the seasons
Always eager to change

He tastes like cigarettes and jack
She is at war with herself
Ready to attack

He has the  universe in his hand  
The world in his palms
She has nothing to live for
She sits alone writing song after song

His soul is full of awe
His eyes are filled with wonder
Her heart is much too cold
Down her life it plundered

He is like a warm summer breeze
Setting all souls at ease
And she is like these cold december nights
Always
Chilling
Always causing a fright

In the hour of death, after this life’s whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb—
  The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.

When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim,
And the mind can only disgrace its fame,
And a man is uncertain of his own name—
  The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.

When the last sigh is heaved, and the last tear shed,
And the coffin is waiting beside the bed,
And the widow and child forsake the dead—
  The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.

For even the purest delight may pall,
And power must fail, and the pride must fall,
And the love of the dearest friends grow small—
  But the glory of the Lord is all in all.

I must not gaze at them although
Your eyes are dawning day;
I must not watch you as you go
Your sun-illumined way;

I hear but I must never heed
The fascinating note,
Which, fluting like a river reed,
Comes from your trembing throat;

I must not see upon your face
Love's softly glowing spark;
For there's the barrier of race,
You're fair and I am dark.

My life is a story of déjà vu; I sit and review the timeline, the dots along the fading epoch share similarities within the clusters. I draw a line at the points of change and the clusters remain unaltered. No matter where I go; no matter who I am with, my reality is always the same; I wish I could remove the blight that is my hidden curse.   I can’t find my good fountain pen; my blood is losing its circulation. There are dilemmas on the menu, a feast for those who once hungered with ambition. Grinding my teeth in frustration from the disappointments in the room; these expectations gained are those opportunities lost.  So  many wanting so much for so little; history embedded within my skin.  The weather is getting colder but it doesn’t feel like December.