Like a beggar feeling for gold in the dark
I mosey in the shadows searching for the scent of bliss
Blind to everything but my own thought
I skirt the edge of light and dark
A stuttering heartbeat
I rest upon a sturdy form and begin to flutter
Slowly
I come away from my stupor and tilt my head
Upward
Illuminated by a golden sphere
A moth grasping at God
Gripped in the glow I am light
Reflecting unto faded stars
We
Inanimate forms buzzing along to the
Dull hum of the universe.

I see a dying swan
Resting on the marshes of the bank
Her feathers white as snow
Her wings like that of a silk

I hear a dying swan
whispering softly to the river
While she rests and sleeps
the river answers back with a song

A song of life and death
Graping onto her graceful neck
breath took her away
And now she sleeps and never comes back

I know a dying swan
she's like a mother
and the river a home
though her eyes told me no story anymore
I still believe her, that dying swan

The sky exchanges its clouds for the stars & moon,
The mountains & valleys of green emphasizes its living creatures,
and still you have yet to understand my love for you.

Why does the snow fall in the grey,
and spring blooms in the blue,
But yet they say to each other, 'I love you"?

For true love happens unexpected,
they don't come in line,
but you have yet to understand my love for you.

Eyes are made to see beautiful moments,
in nightmares creeping between your sleep,
But our naked eyes just can't meet.

While you're in the south,
I'm here thinking of you,
for you see,
you have yet to know my love for you.

I'll keep my distance,
in the aligning stars of the universe,
for in the end,
you have never understood my love for you.

Those lights, they swim and float gently
in an infinite pool of darkness ,
They call the lights 'stars'
and the pool the 'night sky',

I see their eyes blinking at me,
trying to hum a lullaby for me,
they twirl and swirl and dance
to the music of the owl and the wind.

A white crescent hangs high above,
Giving the earth a pleasure glow,
she knew what darkness might bring,
so she gifted us a show,

Of casted shadows over the tall trees,
where ocean tide crawls on the beach,
and mere mysteries of stolen jewelry,
all but a show, all but a show.

So now goodnight, my child,
let the crescent moon tuck you in,
with her light upon you,
and the stars above you.

Good night, my child, goodbye.

My feet touches, sways, & sweeps,
the white cement left on its street,
it told me, 'begone, begone, begone'
and all I ever cared was the colours of the sun.

A newspaper, thin and fair,
dances along the sways of a breeze,
Smoke creeps out of its small chimney,
of white water and black coffee

A tree stood tall and proud,
despite the lack of clothes and sound,
of the wind, the sun, and the sea,
of anything but the black & white trees.

I stopped, turned and stared,
through the white window
and black chair,
it seemed too easy and fast to me,
but within the black and white,
you were grey to me.

Empty halls and corridors so void
In an empty city of a heart you toyed
Of which I soiled with water and sunlight
Is now a withered lack of teeming life

Battles on horses under the moon
Leave dead men's corpses in daylight blues
And looting of thieves through opened doors
Stolen heartstrings and broken windows

My heart was never yours to choose
And knowing not your despicable muse
And so you stole the city of my heart
Its light long gone as darkness comes

Questions left unanswered
That which we ask ourselves, why?
Tired from unwanted existence
In this life, you and I

Uncertainty of tomorrow
In the waking of everyday
Strangling ropes to our throats
Dragging cobblestones on railways

Midnight shifting thoughts
That which I ask myself, should I?
Crumpled bed sheets whispering soft
A life we must survive

I saw you.

Squeezed between sentences,
In semi colons and calibre comas,
On page twenty six.

Smudging word after word
With vagueness,
And I lost track of the story.

Couldn't find a full stop,
Couldn't find you.

Help me.

Tireless train on metal railways,
Indecision to halt
For rushing men with suitcases.
Tell me, where's your destination?

Fumbling hearts with trampling feet
To catch the present,
A minute too late.

She's gone now.
You've lost your next train station.

You were afraid
Of falling.

Falling for people
That gave you no ground
for landing;
Unreachable heights that
Hands can't grasp,
All that is left is an
Emotional mess -

Because love is a dangerous flight.
And settling for risks,
Isn't your choice of fun.