Times I prayed it were a dream
Panic for walls, desperate roofs

Other times wishing I'd just wake up
Goggles of illusion unable to remove

Temptation calls to beg for the past
Reconcile memories, bridges of ash

But squinting onward revealing a path
Bright & dusty, motivation is rash

Bones push on, contrasting desire
Canyons & valleys formed of lips and skin

Beckoned further & to pillar of fire
Collecting hope in a can of tin

Temptation calls to set the first & the last
Plot my own course on my own map

But onto the teacher only to grasp
If I pass when I die, then my life is a class

One note
that plays

In my head

Like a piano's
soft pressed
key

More notes
they make

their great sounds

as a piano
playing
softly

I wandered through a house of glass—
Where echoes lined the walls—
And every sigh was catalogued
In airless, silent halls—

A ribbon—folded into dusk—
A letter—laced with dust—
A ring—unfastened from a hand—
A vow—reduced to rust—

The floorboards hummed of footsteps hushed—
Of names—no lips would call—
And shadows, draped in tattered lace,
Danced soundless through the hall—

I placed my heart upon a shelf—
Beside a wilted rose—
And watched the evening take its leave—
Where love—unburied—goes.

What am I here for?

My heart toils daily
that I might breathe

My mind conjures
    color, lines, words,
    art, music, thoughts,
    conversations, ideas,
        DREAMS

and why?
                        what use is it?

How much longer 'til I fall and die?
I pray every day for something to grasp
at last, I have nothing
nothing left, what's left?
But to wish for death
that maybe in my
second breath
I will find
a life I dreamt to live

That maybe the second
opening of these eyes might be
blessed to see-
    to see men & women exactly
        as they are, nothing more & nothing less
            for such is God's great work that upon our
                        purification
            we wont be pure in the sense that we will be
        as autonomous robots, but we will be pure
    in ourselves & who we are
Identities known & loved in truth. That I might
see you & you might see me. Without this
veil in-between.

& being fully known we can be fully free to feel acceptance
                    & peace.
    Like children are meant to be.

But right now it's a distant dream
I wake & struggle
                                    I get to work my
  lungs are filled with soot & ash
my skin singed from the
fire that fuels a hotter
fire which is my bank account

aching for a moment of silence
& peace & rest because if
we are honest we are
tired. so tired.
"Find joy in the little
things". Maybe. I don't
mean to say satisfaction
in life is impossible -

"Find purpose in greater
things". Indeed, such can drive
our force of life forward
with determination.

I mean to say that at the end of the day
we are alive in a place that is impure &
incomplete.
We are warranted to have depression, angst, and frustration -
though it may not be healthy, yet is it true that
finding a cope is merely just coping? not that we're
wrong to do. I am just saying that we might
recognize the truth. I do indeed commend
the strive for happiness
it exists
for a reason
to strive for it

But there is something more
if darkness exists, then so does light
if cold exists, then so does warmth
if hate exists, then so does love
a shut door has a second state
an object in motion doesn't HAVE to stay in motion
but it could
possibly
find rest.
Maybe that's the true purpose of friction.

If impure and incomplete exists
than so does pure
and complete.
hope.