Sometimes
Life feels like
Carrying a piano
While walking on
A tightrope

Polar opposites – one side happy, one side not so much.
One day I’m fine, while another I barely recognize myself.

Fitting through the days is as effortless as slipping my foot
into a shoe; yet on another day I find myself searching for
that shoe, or I might even choose to walk barefoot, craving
the raw sensation to remind me how to truly feel.

It isn’t the pain – it’s the mere contemplation of it that keeps
me tethered to reality, a hopeful lost dreamer adrift in a sea
of daydreams. My skin may grow thicker, but the heart’s soft
hurt grows a bit sweeter; even as my eyes perceive life’s
flavours as harsh and bitter.

Polar opposites – the spectrum of being happy, or trying
to be happy in the skin of your own being.

She peeled her oranges today,
actually for years,
but this isn’t about oranges.

She holds things together,
piece by piece, peel by peel,
grown used to her hands
and the strength they reveal,
but this isn’t about oranges.

It feels strange when another
reaches out, offers to peel,
to see past the layers,
the parts that are real,
but this isn’t about oranges.

She learns self-reliance,
but maybe it’s true,
that letting someone help
doesn’t make her less, but new,
and again, this isn’t about oranges.

So here’s to the balance,
to peeling her own,
yet knowing it’s okay
not to do it alone.

Because, in the end,
this isn’t just about oranges.

for every thing, there is a time
for every song, there is a fitting moment
for every angel, a wee devil lurks
for every spring, its autumn

for every taste, there is a canvas blank
for every brush, there is a stroke unfinished
for every soul, there is a soul to spark
for every universe, a mind undiminished

for every beating heart, there is a dream to dream
for every happy day, there is a week of sorrow
for every wicked game, there is a sumptuous scene
for every yester-day, a million of to-morrows

for every tear you cry, there is a genuine smile
for every doubt you shed, there is a triumph to follow
for every faux pas, there's a saving grace
for every second gone, a million of to-morrows

You don’t know?
Are you yet to hear?
The endless well of entertainment,
The Court Jester,
The explorer of the end
Of your limits,
Never breaks, nor is broken.

He gives distraction to the weak,
And to those who lack will,
He grants strength.
Still, he knows well
The fragility of the strong.

Humor not The Jester,
And even the king shall find himself
In pieces,
And the nobles shall
Seamlessly crumble.

But they who humor The Jester
Shall mend their cracks.
They shall mount up upon legs like man before them,
They shall run and not weary,
They shall walk and not faint,
And The Jester shall lose his own balance.

Not that it’s of our concern.

Enchanted with prayer, mountain halls
Bejeweled by its people.
As light unveils their rocky spires,
Breathes in the dawn,
Combining force
Of two opposing powers—
Resilient mind and stone.
A binding of things equal.
They twist, they torque,
Erupt with fire fueled by brawn.
Solidified in shared desire
To bring a life to form.