Surface shallow information not good enough for the individual but powerful enough for a nation
Tiny bubbles
Giant games
That’s what you make inside a cage
To keep things busy
So afraid to be still
Sitting in silence could make you restless and ill
The only time when things finally get clearer and the whole world finally sees the angle of the mirrors
Trapped inside
Wanted out
Got distracted by what we thought about
Got it made
Boy been played
The hand was bitten in good faith
That nature takes a breath and wakes
What’s the trouble yet to come?
Can you hear the beating of that drum?
Fighting fading
Reflex gravy
Kind of moment that will make you crazy
About that time getting near
No one ever listens to a seer
Let it go
Some will know
Even one will count and the seed will grow
Impulse has taken my spirit
It’s married to good fortune
And opportunity it’s mistress
Balance a forefather who sacrificed himself to be the vessel we dwell within
Though I may slip, the counter will always be there calculating and adjusting
Remember that it’s always better to fall forward then back
At least then I’m not blind to the fall and can attempt a catch

Not everyone is meant to
                  live,
But not everyone is meant to
                             die.

Balance is a thing most found
In those who've walked on solid ground;
Balance, yet, is often craved
By those who often misbehave.
So then a question,
Long in prose;
Is balance sought,
Or predisposed?
For every day, the average man,
Slaves and works,
All he can,
Just enough to earn to eat,
And derives no joy from
From his borrowed seats.
He carries on,
Through different days,
Capable and strong;
He endures the harshest words,
But doesn't think on it for long.
He does not have his limits set
No cause to think it's not over yet.
He lives in self assurity,
The master of his own,
Balanced on a mountain top
Lands rich with seeds he's sown.
And yet those of a different mind,
Are sorted out and left behind
Thought to be a pitied waste,
The bringer of a bitter taste
Their minds so fraught with error,
Just dealing with an added terror;
A confusing hand, dealt at birth,
A disadvantage on this blasted earth,
That those on solid mountain peaks
Do not know, and fear to speak.
And those below don't know what to do,
Wanting balance with naught a clue
Of what it is, or how to find
A stable corner of their mind.
Some have homes, in such messy states;
A place more burden than a home to share;
Some have jobs,
And some have none,
Struggling equals in disrepair.
For what is normal to the man on high,
Is but a dream to those that sigh
And look upwards, to briefly cry
"I'm not broken, I really try!"
But each, in their own worlds, apart
Though born into a different start,
Crave the power that balance brings-
No matter of insanities.
So why treat those who suffer with more
Burdens and troubles built up on thier shores
As if they are foolish to reach up for these things?
Should we not aid them,
Show them their wings?
Or are we afraid that they'll fly higher than we?
Ascend to a separate, sparkling peak?
Shame on our fears,
Shame on us all-
Using predisposed notions
To make other souls fall.
For balance is a thing that's sought,
Elusive, strange, and barely caught
And all are equal in this single thought:
Balance is hard won, not taught.

Water has both the power of life
And of death

It is a gentle wave washing up on shore
And the beginning of all life

We cannot live without it
It holds the chemical balance within me

And yet in one surging wave
It can destroy everything in its path

~you were my glass of water, and are my tsunami

We walked on a tight rope
Balancing
But also dancing
A ferocious dance
That was bound to result
In one of us falling

A loss of intention
Shrouded in emerald
Its sparkles simmer
As they spread
Throughout tyme
And into the cosmos

One could protest
Their abundance

In exchange
For self-repugnance
It is the way of men
To challenge and dissent
But perhaps diversion
From traditional paths
Will leave that flower be
To grow into itself
And spread its seed
Of universal harmony