Behind the veil I wear upon my face
Despite the actions I partake tonight
Knowing you has filled my heart with grace
And seeing you has filled my soul with light

Let's play with the fire that runs in our veins
Temper with feelings that we shouldn't dare
Testing the temperance of these social chains
Cast off their irons and lay ourselves bare

Fruit so forbidden a bite will expel
Serpentine glances from my concubine
With you I'm in heaven. With her, in hell.
With her I'm entangled, with you entwined.

Though each of us will surely do his best
It's your true heart on which my hopes shall rest

At the age of 18
I entered into the unknown
As many had before me
To plant the seeds I'd sow
It was a big change.
Where I'm from
Chickens
Cows
Ducks
Goats
Sheep
In layman's terms; a farm.

And here there are animals too.
They're just made of metal,
Metal and flesh,
And the flesh ones are scarier.
But this story isn't about the flesh ones,
It's about the metal ones
And the mettle of one so little.
I've been here for a year now, give or take a summer break
And I sometimes find it hard
In a city so full of sound and light
To enjoy myself. The little things.
I haven't seen the stars, for example,
Since I moved here.
Coming from country air and clear skies
That's huge.

I miss it.
I miss the smell, too, because let's be real
Cow manure and roadkill
Still smell better than this town.
But most importantly
I miss the little things.
Squirrels
Birds
Dragonflies;
I remember each summer, at our old house
Because of this little body of water in our back yard
We'd get HUNDREDS of dragonflies.
Maybe even thousands.
And I never really appreciated that until now.
So believe me when I say,
A snail
Was the most exciting thing on my walk home yesterday.

Funny enough, a sweaty teenager carrying two suits
crouching to look at a snail for
what I think was up to 15 minutes
Wasn't even slightly out of place here.

Anyways.
It wasn't just the fact that I'd seen this snail
But the fact that this snail's little trail
Had come
From the street.
Before I continue, I'd hit a wall.

There's piece of street art outside where I live that says
"do something every day to remind this city why the hell you're here."
And for the life of me,
I couldn't.

I'd try to sing,
but lose the words
I'd try to write
and lose the verse
I'd try to act
and lose the truth
I'd try to dance
and couldn't move.

And here
in this concrete jungle
A snail.

A creature so small but so incredibly strong
Carries his world on his back all day long
Can't give up his burdens until he dies
And I watched this snail with tears in my eyes
Because he'd crossed the street
Believe it or not
Against all odds
He'd slowly fought
his way across the asphalt road
full of fleshy beasts in their metal thrones
but his mettle proved greater
and at a snail's pace
he found himself crossing
and lay at my face.

I made sure no salt rolled off me to him
Because that would be an unfortunate end.
And I thought about words
And verse
and truth
I thought about how I could barely move
And I envied him.

Never did I think I'd say
That I wish to move at a snail's pace.

And if he can do it,
Why can't I?
This is what brought the truth to my eyes
The verse to my song
The words to my lips
The movement in my feet
My legs
My hips
I sprang into life
And went home to write
Because if he can do it
So can I.

It's the little things in life.
And in this labyrinth of greed and strife
Polluted by gasses and animals alike
Just remember to stop and breathe, and then
A snail might make the air clean again.

I am a firm believer of believing
No matter how you choose to do so.
So is your cup half full, or half empty?
Does it matter?
I'm not asking for an existential crisis,
merely for you to observe.
The world has you down,
You're tossing around
Sleep is no longer a goal
Seeming completely improbable
And this isn't the first,
And it isn't the worst
And it will happen again
And again, and again
And there's things that you want
Things you don't have
A screaming inside
For what you've done "bad"
And your cup is half empty.
You walk with a smile
Your steps cover miles
Lie soft in your bed
Count sheep in your head
You don't have it all
But you know you can fall
Asleep.
And your cup is half full.

And neither of you is whole.
But you're both in containers
Judging life at the equator
Of what you have
And wanting more:
Wondering forever what's in store
Fearing or hoping
Love or loathing
You don't know, and its fine
No it's not, bubbles brine
Lines begin to blur
The still begin to stir
And suddenly
Something changes.

Is it good?
Is it bad?
Why do we judge things,
Happy, sad.
Quantifying feelings, playing these games
Half full or half empty,
Pretending that the names
We give to our existence
which we do with such persistence
Make us any different
from each other.

Fifty percent is not a whole
And either way you're not as full
As you should be.
If we must insist that life's a cup
Then do your best to fill it up
With malice, tears,
Kindness, fears,
Hopes, dreams
Memories, things
In all shapes and sizes
Be they "empty" or "full"
It all gets mixed to make your soul
And just remember that when you sip your drink
Not only do the lightest liquids float
But the heaviest ones sink.

And what about me?
What do I see
To be able to preach this obscure testimony?
I see that my cup
Has yet to be filled.

Two brown eyes
Staring back at me
Eternal