Cease your perpetually rushed tendencies,
and listen to a boy who believes himself to be wise.
Calm the churning of your thoughts,
open your eyes and broaden your horizons.
Feel the steady beat of your heart.
Slow your breathing, and ready yourself.
I speak in metaphors and analogies,
in an oftentimes futile attempt to understand life.
I spend my days writing, singing, hoping and dreaming.
Sometimes, it is an incoherent and nonsensical mess.
Other times, I find myself caught in an epiphany.
In those moments, I take one step closer,
closer to an answer, to that one question all ask themselves:
What is my purpose for being here?
In the short span of years that I have been alive,
I have experienced a diverse multitude of things.
Some of them possessed of a ravishing beauty.
The soft caress of a lover, her sweet words whispered in my ear.
Or the involvement in something greater, better than myself.
Others have had abhorrent and malevolent qualities.
The loss of oneself to the avaricious fingers of addiction.
Or the helplessness of holding a loved one as they leave this world.
At times I have found myself fighting for my very life.
At others I have found myself willing to leave it behind.
I incessantly find my heart vying with my mind for **********
I have foolishly stood by and watched with apathetic eyes,
my slow and agonizing departure from sanity.
Even consumed by insanity there is truth to be gleaned.
If only one finds in themselves the exit from its’ purgatorial cell.
Life is not preordained, it is not predictable, or even reasonable.
Life simply exists in its’ entirety with multitudinous choices.
The body is the vassal for life, and thus, you have a choice.
Life is what you make it; you can choose to make it good.
Or, whether through naivety or foolhardy bravado,
you can choose to make it irrevocably bad.
This is not to say you will always choose what is right.
But rather that you alone have the power to define yourself.
I am no longer a child, nor do I profess myself to be aged.
But I can say with undeniable certainty, that my mind,
being enigmatic as it is, has surpassed my physical age.
If only now I might find the remedy to purge my heart,
for it pumps the poison of love into me everyday.
But even being as caustic and acidic as love may be,
to rid yourself of it would be to squander your life.
Harness love and you wield a double-edged sword.
It can cut you down just as easily as another.
I have released my heart to do as it will.
In someone else’s hands it now lies insecurely.
But with a stubborn valor it remains there despite my calls.
With askance acquiescence I call no longer.
I wait with a stoic trepidation overshadowing all hope.
But even cast in shadow as it is, hope has its own light
So now I find myself waiting, forever if I must.
The answers I so desperately yearn for are just on the horizon.
If only I could reach out, with feeble, trembling hands,
and sieze them before they escape my grasp again.
Perhaps then I will reminisce upon the past,
therein finding the reaason behind every occurence of importance.
I've never been the most hardy of people.
But despite all of the walls obscurring my path,
I have somehow endured, and so I shall continue to do.