he is the moon that shines down on me when i'm lost in the labyrinth of a cornfield at one in the morning

and he is the sun that peeks behind the clouds after a misty afternoon spent studying at the local library

he is the sand that shifts under the sea in the wake of a creature rising up from a good afternoon slumber

and he is the sky that envelopes the world in a palette of colors that reminds us of the passage of time and time again

he is a house built on love and passion with pillars that shake but never break as the earth falters and cries

and he is the horizon that paints my perspective a burning flame the intensity of a wildfire nobody in the vicinity foretold

he is the breeze that greets me on the balcony as i laugh with strangers that assure me i am doing just fine

and he is the moment of being half-asleep when i mumble my words in response to my mother who kisses my cheek

he is the lexicon of forbidden words that i store behind the door at the back of my heart which beats once in a while

and he is the silence that infiltrates the damp mood but also gives me a draft on which i ink the first beats of a song

it steps on the whites of my bones
makes them creak in the later hours of night
oh i wish i could sweep it away
into a chest i could keep locked for eternity
as the owls hoot out on branches
i plug my ears with music meant for dancing
and tuck myself into bed
where it again tries to get ahold of me
hold me in its grasp
enough pressure for it to be felt and recognized
but not enough to break me
not enough for me to cry out in pain
just enough to confuse me
why are you here?
what do you want?
maybe it wants nothing
just my company
maybe loneliness itself
gets lonely sometimes
and so here i am pondering
whether i should embrace loneliness
back

to just be, gives me peace
like watching birds communicate
on a branch through the kitchen window
watching waves hit the rocks
white foam painting the dark blue sea
there is peace out there, and in me

happiness is fleeting, yet it is
also there to stay
it becomes my friend, day and night
exits the scene
when there is trouble, but instead
of "goodbye", it's "see you later"

if happiness were a friend
i'd text them all day, greeting
"hi how've you been?" "are you up for lunch?"
"dinner?" "what have you been up to
lately?" but some days i settle down, knowing
that they'll come by when needed

to just know, gives me peace
there is power, soft and steady
but oh so there, in knowing
that happiness will always return
to me, to everyone, always
coming back home

with the stretch of his arms
he created the world
breathed life into it, a melody produced
no songs existed before
he walked, danced across the land and seas
and caressed the skies
they called him King
and prayed to him through and through
sorrow and joys, dreams and storms
a lover lost, memories gained

with the nod of his head
he flew above them
tore the skies apart, fingers pointed at
the sun, daring, duelling
smiting its rays of boastful light
there can only be one sun, he said
there can only be one him, he asserted
there can only be One, he cried
he fought like a champion, the winner
who rises while falling

with the raise of his fist
he shouted a name
no one knew whose it was, no one
dared to seek the truth
"King, oh King, we call thy name"
"I am here, I call your name"
there went the Light, a heat
permeating, invading, but like a whisper
cared and loved, silenced
the troubles in their hearts

a heart of gold
he revealed his name
a name so sweet
a name so strong
his name was Yuzuru

the mirror stares at the wholeness of me--cellulite creating waves over waves, bumps and hills over the decisiveness of my bones. everywhere, a mirror, a chance to reflect and magnify. here i am, my reflection says, hands waving at me, smile wavering slightly. here i am; look closely. more, the person says. look harder. and there i see it--the person in the person. the hands wrapped around my hands, not hovering there but trapping mine. over the halo of my hair is another head, one sneering down at my reflection, probably thinking its way into this world, are you still alive?

there is room for doubt, never any room for certainty. when i step under the showerhead, grab the loofah and wash, i imagine the tearing of skin against claws. secrets fall over in rivulets of darkened fat, the sick yellow of it all screaming at me in the unrelenting water. there has got to be time for release, however nauseously painful. as the ****** result streams down the drain, i wring my hair dry and reach for the towel, only to accidentally glance at the mirror again.

are you still alive? an answer spoken through a different mouth: more or less.

today i carry myself not too gracefully
but with the air that says i am doing it gingerly
i hold the tender bones of my body close
in hopes that they stay and not fall to the floor

it's been forever since i met with my doctor
and let her inspect my bones that do sometimes
threaten to break, brittle
but i make sure she knows that my brittle bones
have become stronger, even though each step
has to be taken little by little

the bones in my chest--they constrict and they expand
the bones in my head--they either weight too little or too much
the bones in my legs--they take time to obey to movement
the bones in me--they work together to form this person

this person that carries her tender bones
that is me, i am her
this person that bends but rarely breaks
that is me, i am her
this person that forgets where she left her bones
she is not me, that person is gone

God. is She real?
if She is, then what of it?
frankly i do not know
who i am talking to it
but i hear that God is a myriad
of things, yet at the same time
She is not really anything
frankly i do not know ****
only that there must be a
God, a God for peace, a God
for the weary, a God for the lost,
a God for the old, a God
for the young, and a God
for all the opposites, the disparities
and similarities

maybe She can see me
writing this poem, curious and wandering
into territory both familiar
and unknown. maybe She
knows me
more than i know myself, or
maybe She wants me to
know her like i want to know myself.
maybe God is a He, or a They
or none of the above. i just know
i find comfort
in the warmth of the same ***
but also
maybe God is
what's beyond warmth and ***

but perhaps God has a warmth
that is entirely just Theirs
and They are waiting
for me to discover it
perhaps God has a world
that is not far from home
and He is waiting
for me to uncover it