I held his hand firmly on the fairground.

There were ferris wheel and rocking boat
even a flying saucer
of rides worth a few pennies

but the boy embracing that unlucky age
had his eyes stuck on the shining silver blue
beaming behind the sparking glass
full with rotor blades ready to take off
dreaming a ride to the sky
past the high tent of the circus
over the tallest coconut tree
into the haze of stars
where to only lonely pilots could fly
for being loved and understood
and not questioned for the cracked voice
for the thin hairlines on upper lip
for glancing at the girls
but inducted into the team of thirteen
for perpetually traversing between stars
on free rides into freedom
worth a lifetime.

Think not about
the gossamer windings
of feeble minds
for our souls' inner
structure
is by sacred design
and as we roam
and spin and
consume in flame
we do our best
to soothe our
own inner pain
and when the seedlings
burst forth
their silken fire
and the dam breaks loose
with longing desire
    we strive to remain
on top of the tide
in undertow rush
and unravelling pride
It is these moments
that we snap into shards
in a  mosaic of selves
veins mapping
                heart
and our arteries  burst
into rhythms that slide
as shifting polar sparks
           ignite waves of time
tectonic plates quake
as we are torn apart
        from inside
our cells reconstructing
our fibers re-defined
This is spirit recreation -
a tiny flare in the dark
for we are dying to survive
our own inner hell
we are ******* the breath
of that life-giving spell
we do all of this and more
                    as we crumble
                               and spew
on our knees at rock-bottom
searching for new
So fear not
those depths
of the unlit abyss
for it's our own
shining eyes
that stir
light's
fervent
              kiss