How to define a moment,
That happened over time?
How to define the time,
That began before your mind?
How to know your own mind,
When you're stuck rethinking things through?
How to escape an endless loop,
That was never tight, but loose?

Can something grow,
If it's as big as it can be?
Can water flow,
From the lowest point in the sea?
Can fear know,
When there are no more boundaries?
Can travellers go,
Beyond what their mind's eye sees?

If love is supposed to be beautiful,
Why is love blind?
Maybe it's selfless, giving something it can never have itself.
If hate is supposed to blacken your heart,
Why is anger red?
Maybe anger drains your heart of blood, and hate is what remains.
If life is supposed to be bountiful,
Why does it always end?
Maybe it's to teach us to make the most of our time.
If death is supposed to be final,
Why do we mourn?
Maybe it gives our mind time to detach itself from the lost.

Questions are what make us human,
Or is it the journey to answer them?
Or the answers themselves?
Or maybe it doesn't matter, as long as we have another question to ask.

How long is a moment?
How slowly can we live it?
And how full of questions can it be?

The dark is crushing,
My heart is breaking until,
I hear her again.

She stirs
To remind the world to breathe
The sun dances from her eyelashes
The sky sings in her gaze
Every flower blooms at her sigh
Every wave caresses her hand
For that moment the whole Earth wakes with their most perfect creation.

Sitting silently,
He sits and stares at his phone,
Shifting slightly,
He doesn't look up from his phone,
Coughing quietly,
He ignores me and looks at his phone,
A little louder,
He stays there slowly reading his phone,
Groaning with the pain,
He still remains there silently checking his phone,
Starting to bleed,
He raises an eyebrow at the screen of his phone that he studies so intently.
Feeling faint,
He sighs and looks at the clock before looking back down at the obviously intriguing phone in his hand.
Skin pale, vision blurred,
He chuckles to himself and takes a sip from the half-empty cup of tea at his side and scrolls with a single finger on the screen of his phone.
My voice is weak as I call out,
"Dad..."
For the last time the blade glides over my wrist.
He stares at his phone.

His breathing is slow,
His slumber deep,
A bottle in his hand betrays,
His never-ending wasteful ways.

Ignorance will never die
Stupidity will never die
Prejudice will never die
Violence will never die
Sadness will never die
Fear will never die
Anger will never die
War will never die

But neither will hope
Maybe that hope will be in vain,
But it will keep understanding alive,
It will keep the intelligent solving problems,
It will keep the downtrodden fighting for justice,
It will give the unsafe peace,
It will dry tears and bring light,
It will comfort those in danger,
It will calm deadly rage,
And it will give the wounded sanctuary.

*It doesn't matter if this hope is false,
If it can do so much good.

Poetry
Music
Sleep

I heard that tone twice,
Once to tell me of failed love,
Then that ours was too.