not everything is  
just smiles and laughters
not everyone
is always happy
stop acting so happy
i know some part of u is sad
is hurt
why won’t u open it up to me
i will comfort u
i will care for u
u are not alone
i know that u always laugh and all
but are u really happy
or were those fake laughters
all those tears that are inside of u
are they drowning u
tell me something
please
i really care for u

So...
A line there, and a thing there,
A circle there, and a staircase there.
A little light here, a little dust there,
A little confusion here and there.
How is this true?
This mystery.
They say it all the time, like ALL the time...I say it too.
But I don't get it...maybe they don't too.
How do I let go.
When I can't see the light.
I am really trying to get this right.
Just don't disturb me now,
as I sit and stare in this room,
trying to figure out what, how to take up room.
So that fear and excuses have no room...

A deadly drop!
A ghastly death!
Oh gosh! How can I survive this death!?
Anxiety crashes in.
Sweat pearls welled up.
Ahhhhh......oh...hold on...
(Walk a little closer)
(Holds on to the nearest Boulder)
Oh...a staircase leading down.
Well...those are for nothing...

Called holy, all the time.
Too kind, that's my tag I wear sometimes.
More open is my friend's request.
More curses is what they want to get.

Trying to fit in, used to be my goal.
Now that left me cold.

Holding on to Rocky seas.
Trying to find ground on nothing.

Holding tight to my own hands, I used to do.
But, now I know that makes me a fool.

Silence was my armour.
Voice, was their trigger.
I used to think that way.
And maybe I still do.

My voice, triggers them to shoot me so that others don't have to be shot.
Silence was when they themselves are shot and need comfort when they know it isn't "their" fault.
When silence was their time, their space to finally unravel the war inside their minds.

Voice and silence.
When hand in hand.
Works well with his plan.

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Paintbrushes ready by your side.
Canvas, put up, ready to be painted,
It's hands placed on it's side.
Hands ready, framing the canvas, putting "everything" in place.
Ocean blue skies stretched across.
Floating tears drifting in the skies.
Paintbrushes trees sat by the side.
Shifting waters busking in the sun's light.
A humble quiet house, would be nice.
With a garden at the side.
Birds in the air, horses down below.
All creatures painted into the canvas.
My family, stood by the house.
Hands on shoulders.
Something was missing....
Where is God?
Is God amiss the trees?
Is God drying up the tears in the sky?
Where is he.
Maybe he is simply, right there, by my side....