There will be dancing
On that joyous occasion
That moment
When I just
Am
There will almost certainly be dancing
Of the body
Of the spirit
In that moment
When I breathe
Deeply
When the clock stops ticking
When I quit keeping score
When there is no "more"
Or "next"
Or "because"
When there just
Is

How strange is the relationship between man and nature?

When man finds himself amongst the turbulence and chaos of life,
he motions towards the calmness of the river.

When the river expresses its rage with its might,
the careful traveller attempts to trek lightly upon its courses.

Nature is in itself in synchronicity with life.

On this moonless night
I sit among the crickets
Shrouded in music

There is no breeze this evening,
and not a single leaf is dancing.

Bird songs fade in the distance,
Everything is still in its brilliance.

It feels like nothingness-
Wish I could have this within me.

For that which is still
can only act consciously.

I sought out the rain
And though long I sat within
Storms followed me home

You were my only chance at the calm, it's no secret. Not when my skin had become a topography of city light and anomalies waiting to happen. Not when broken wrists and collarbones had defined my name. And for years, my fingers had held onto rusting street signs, pointing to where my flesh had started to decay under the nipping of the butterflies — places to avoid touching, otherwise I'd break.

But you were the calm.

And for so long, it had evaded my side of the bed. And I know you had tasted dead dahlias and maladies off my tongue. Poets don't write about lips like mine — those that repel clarity and softness — those that had forgotten the words to a prayer. And it's no secret that I had spent years walking on a tilted axis and screaming at the pitfalls of my own doing. And yet you kissed me; for once, my skin had learned silence — raw, and in broad daylight. For once, I didn't have to be the storm that I was.

And love, whoever knew you would betray the calm, when you were my only chance at it?

Now, nightfalls just feel like bruises starting to show way too soon. Now, September nights are just cold and are filled with blunders. Now, this heartbreak seems like it may outlast all my well-kept sunsets, waiting for me at the end of this storm. And it could've been you, still — it could've been us. Now all that we were is a wreck to behold. And love, must all beautiful things rot?

You were the calm, but poets don't write about tragedies like these.

Maybe it's better off that way.

Were there clouds upon the sea
For they would shelter me;
Were there string tied to my heart
For you to pull them to and fro;
Were there clarity in my mind
So that i May function half the time.
Were there peace in my soul
So I would not lust after you no more.

Behind every set
Of beautiful, glossy eyes
There's a whole story

Silent and so calm
Heads peeking through leaves and trees
Bright eyes stare, yearning