I tinker
I overthink
I mull over
I sink

I entertain
I disassemble
I ascertain
I gamble

I play
I rewind
I play again
And again
I find

I reassemble
Still I sink
I'm in battle
When I overthink

He toils all day and all year.
He takes each misgiving
and gives them momentary life,
through one lamentable tear...
Before he carries on digging.

He gets his hands *****,
as he digs through soil, earth and sweat.
No end in sight,
or he'd rather not see.
No solace he'd find,
no peace he'd let.

He only sees this expanse of land...
Of which he diligently keeps.
Tales told by dishevelled sand,
covering secrets
which he has been burying deep.

He has made this
his past, present and future.
He'd make sure that each would fit.
Tied to this grounds,
he is the worn-out keeper.
He never tells but he buries hatchets.

I amble as if I weigh a tonne

I gasp as if someone has lied

I weep as if I have no words

I mourn as if something has died

Eyes have vision
Mind decisive
Words bear meaning
Actions hardly furtive

Body is hale
And legs could carry
Resolution never stronger
But heart remains a liability

He doesn't see past the horizon of his life
He doesn't indulge in the myth of the hereafter
He doesn't believe he is worthy of such a notion
He doesn't make it a habit to put pen to paper

But with her...

He envisions the future like he's lived it before
He sings of his plans that span several lifetimes
He romanticises his thoughts as soon as they're conceived
He converses in paintings and writes only in rhymes

The box remained shut.
His fingers probe but with invisible eyes.
Finding the clasp that had forgotten the last time.
With the lid pried open,
the dancer would soon arise.

•••••

As expected, she rose...
Accompanied by a tune, truly a haunting sound.
She slid and pirouetted.
She fulfilled the promise to which she was bound.

Her routine was well rehearsed.
She embodied the music, as it carried her.
It mattered not if it was for a single audience.
She cared not if there was no other.

She performed like she might never again,
she inhaled the moment like it was her last.
She sung the song silent like she always would,
she embraced her dance like sail unto mast.

Then the melody slowed,
as the tension in the spring
played itself unwound.
This day for her, had drawn to a close...
But renewed hope for a new one is found.

•••••

He hesitated before resting the lid upon its case.
He caressed his dancer as his eyes start to smart.
His ears would yearn for the song in his head...
He would surely miss the dancer in his heart.

But he knows
when days grow dark
and filled with strife.
The music box lies ready...
And his dancer will again
come to life.

.
We converse without words...
Just shudders and crests of bated breaths.
Tingles that resonate between echoing beats.

We speak without voice...
Just deep gazes that peer endless into bottomless eyes.
Subtle blinks that freeze the ticks of relentless hands.

We talk without sounds...
Just slight quivers between parted lips.
Holding the other captive in a gentle clasp.

We part with no farewell...
Just two wilful wisps darting on separate courses.
Knowing that paths that meander may someday converge.

.

We can never
rewrite history
and the future
is impossible to pen.

When the present
bears only anarchy
in the darkened,
tainted hearts of men.

"Mere seconds in time
and
specks in space"
- Kristy Renae Dalton*


We are seconds and specks,
you and I...

We meet, crash into each other,
mingle and coalesce.
Not knowing where we'll be
in the next.

We exist in one another...
But never together.

A perpetual dance
between time and matter.
An eternal struggle
to share a plane.

You and I...
We live as nothing but
mere seconds in time
and specks traipsing in space.

Teeth bit more than they could chew

Hands grabbed more than they could hold

Shoulders lifted more than they could carry

Words mean more than they could've told

Legs travelled more than they could run

Mind thought more than it could fathom

Body gave more than it could afford

Heart paid more than it could ransom

Pathways opened
through doors unhinged

Journey travelled
with roads unworn

Magic unbound
from spells unchanted

Heartbeats birthed
but the heart's unborn

•••

Verses recited
from a poem unpenned

A song sung
but lyrics unwritten

A dance performed
with routine unrehearsed

Feelings perceived
through words unspoken

If this tree
should ever come to fall

Let its gnarly limbs
point up to heaven

If its heart
should ever come to a stall

Let it die
with errors pardoned
and sins forgiven

The crescent moon be my perch.
        A bough from which I extend my arm.
Careful fingers grasp my brush...
And with it I shall fill the void
with the universe.                

               The crescent moon be my hammock.
Upon which I lean fully into,
to seek restful recluse.                
Should my body start to buckle...
        From the heavy hopes of wistful eyes.

   The crescent moon be my anchor.
From which I draw                
my inspiration and strength.
                   She would cradle and sway me gentle...
      When wilting hearts spill unto me
the callous wiles of the world.    

The crescent moon be my well.        
A fount through which my palette        
remains full with an                                 
abundant array of silvery white.        

Just so...                                 
I could conjure for others,
       what their hearts so desire.

Just so...                      
I could grant them       
             needed solace and tranquillity.

Just so...                 
                          I could infinitely paint for them
the stars...

There lived a man, a crooked man
Whose journey was indeed sheer folly
He had hoped to meet someone, just anyone
To share his plight and story

Many had seen him walk his crooked walk
But thought him unpleasing and crazy
We had watched from afar, afraid to go near
And we had avoided him completely

We could've looked past his decrepit state
But we invested much in seeing with naked eyes
So quickly we turned the other way
We cared not if he lives or dies

We could've helped this man
To close the journey that he had then begun
The earth would now claim his body where it laid
As his soul disappears into the sun

Know this man, the crooked man
Whose looks weighed on us a tonne
We've lost the chance to see this man
The man we conveniently chose to shun

There lived a man, a crooked man
Whose fingers stretched feeble and thin
A note he did write with all of his might
And he hid it on his person before his journey did begin

To whom the note was for, it was never addressed
The man never did disclose
For reasons unclear and secrets untold
This note was the way he chose

"I used to be one with my own darkness
And it fed me fat with lies and fear
It upset people so and everyone left me
Even those I held so close and dear

It seeped into my skin and ate at my bones
It drove my mind insane
I knew I'd rather brave the walk
If I didn't, I'd die in vain

I'd walk for miles for I wish not to die alone
I'd walk in search of anyone
I'm wary of the shadows that lurk behind me
So I choose to walk into the sun

Now I've written this note in diminishing hopes
Should soon if I fall to the ground
At least someone would come to know of me
Should this parchment be discovered and found"

Know this man, the crooked man
Whose note bore his message sombre
He never did find the salvation he sought
He'd never known a happily ever after

There lived a man, a crooked man
Whose end had threatened and came
His dice were cast before he exhaled his last
Still no one really knew his name

Dawn came swift with the sun in tow
And a breeze full of fresh hale air
Morning light shone with a fist full of hope
And found the man laid sordidly bare

Stiff as a board with his hair unkempt
He wore his skin pallid and grey
His eyes closed with lips slightly parted
He'd left with something to say

In this coat, behind the lapel
Hid quietly a small unseen pocket
In it was found a quaint little note
Tucked in folds within a weathered wallet

The paper stained yellow and tattered at the edges
Suggesting that it was long and old
It had cracked with time, smeared with dirt and grime
And on it was ink written stark and bold

Know this man, the crooked man
Who seemed to meet with death in vain
See this man, the crooked man
Who finally broke free from his ball and chain

There lived a man, a crooked man
Who bore his life upon his back
It took a toll and weighed him down
As he trudged along the track

He'd resigned to his fate as the day grew late
Ignoring his unwelcomed guest
He had spoken no words as he continued on
Till he decided to stop and rest

But his health was failing and his feet were aching
His destination no one could know
He crumbled to his knees in the setting sun
As daylight lost its glow

He knew that dusk was skirting so near
He knew that night would come to shroud
And soon he would be overwhelmed
By shadows that would come to crowd

He curled into his lanky self
He cowered in shame and fear
For all the things he tried to leave behind
Crouched now in the dark so near

He trembled and quivered
No one could hear him cry
He whimpered and grovelled
Knowing that there was where he'd die

Know this man, the crooked man
Who then had given up on hope
He shivered and sobbed knowing full well
That he'd reached the end of his rope

There lived a man, a crooked man
Whose shadow far did it trail
He walked with aching joints
And clumsy footfalls ever so frail

The man who seemed to have prized his solitude
This company he could never appreciate
He had made this journey in a futile attempt
To flee from his grounded mate

The man had cursed and hurled stones at it
He shouted with his old, failing voice
Made known that he didn't want to be stalked
He begged to be granted his choice

But the man whose eyes were used and grey
He never could see very well
We see him berating his own crooked shadow
For he was old and never could tell

He hastened his pace but his shadow still stuck
As long as his feet touched the ground
At times he would rest, at the foot or the crest
Breathing heavily without a sound

Know this man, the crooked man
Whose clothes were tattered and torn
See this man, the crooked man
Whose body was tired and worn

There lived a man, a crooked man
Who walked with crooked gait
He'd walk along the crooked road
From sun up until it was late

His knees would scream with every step
No matter how much he wanted to run
We'd never know where he was going
He'd always follow the sun

He'd mutter to himself, of rises and falls
And of lessons his life had shown
But what we never saw or barely noticed
Was that he had never walked alone

He'd walk his walk with his cane and hat
Dragging behind him a shadow of black
It did what he did and trailed long and short
It accompanied him down the track

Know this man, the crooked man
Whose back was bent misshapen
He had made the choice to chase the sun
With steps sorely laboured and uncertain

Still the tremors
that crack my voice

Strengthen the resolve
in my bated breaths

Ease the tremble
that consumes my digits

Deepen the slumber
in my nightly deaths

My teacher once asked
a short simple question.
She had asked,
"What do you want to be?"
Raised arms answered her query.
Open palms each belonging to excitable children.

Wide little eyes looked up at her.
Hands began to flail in the air...
Ever so hopeful of being chosen.
So that they could voice their aspirations.
So that they could begin to share.

One by one,
they each was given the opportunity.
Turn by turn,
boastful were some
while others spoke quiet and shyly.

Then the teacher stopped short.
Not before expressing her delight.
She was in awe of such young minds...
Having had such great wings
to eventually take flight.

Then she explained...
What she had initially meant.
Confused looks all around including me.
She rephrased the question,
"What kind of person...
Do you want to be?"

There was silence.
No arms shot up to meet the subject.
I don't recall having raised mine,
but I remember telling the teacher...
An answer (I was confident), she wouldn't expect.

I stood at my desk,
proud and tall...
And told the teacher
that I wished to be a person...
Well loved by all.

She smiled and I did too.
I felt it was a good answer.
She nodded to signal for me to take my seat again.
She paused before speaking,
and not a moment later.

She said,
"That would be nice.
To be loved by all.
But that's close to impossible.
A big wish for someone so small."

I had heard her words clearly...
However I didn't understand.
My brows furrowed...
And I was deep in thought...
Still I couldn't comprehend.

28 years later...
Here I sit,
looking back to that time in the past.
How time flies...
It simply ticked away...
All too fast.

Till just then I was still that boy...
Who tried hard to please.
I wanted to prove that it wasn't impossible.
You can be loved by everyone,
and you can do it with ease.

But now I have learnt.
Now I have found meaning
and understanding in my teacher's wisdom.
It took me a while but...
I know now...
That wishes and reality don't work in tandem.

You can choose to care and love,
everyone you see.
But to expect everyone to love you the same...
Is sheer
impossibility.