I wonder
how many words
have sat on the tip
of your tongue,
waiting to take the plunge
into the world outside,
but have held back
in fear of the fall-

and I wonder
how different your life would be
had those words been set free.

Long were pen and pad,
neglected.
When sprang a muse!
Most unexpected.
A shock to find our thoughts connected,
myself I thought alone,
dejected.
Soon my hand,
was strong affected,
to see my aimless thoughts directed.
Despite the fact, I oft objected,
She's seen my words and prose projected.
So to a muse, one most respected.
I thank you Arlo!
For inspiration,
Resurrected.

Don't approach a dog unknown to you
Holding out your hand, making eye contact
You may frighten him
Let him come to you

Don't write a poem uninspired
It won't work out
In good time
Let it come to you

Don't go out there seeking love
Like a child with a butterfly net
Live your life
Let it come to you

I’m the kind of person who
will sacrifice an entire night of sleep
just to be next to someone
who will disappear as soon
as morning comes.

death is life

when a star dies, it falls inwards
following a miraculous explosion

death isn't life because
life ends in death

death is a spark
of a beginning,
a push...
towards being
what you were meant to be

life isn't unknown, a mystery
it is just hidden, child's play
and those equipped with a childlike fascination
will disobey norms and willingly search for
and crawl through the rabbit hole

while coming to the conclusion
'logic' has been taught
to work around only physicality

expand
like the universe