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

Towering concrete
flora and fauna struggle
to find their footing.

Today I met someone I knew before.
We talked for a while, shared memories and more.
Then I realized, we can only meet the same person once,
For experience asks, and change is our response.

Static we can't be, unless life's flame
Is snuffed out, and we're just a name.
In every encounter, new experiences we obtain;
Our paths have shifted, though echoes remain.

Time's gentle passage had left its mark,
On hearts once familiar, now slightly stark.
Contrast of past and present, like a shifting dream,
Each conversation weaves new threads in the seam.

After our meeting, I closed my eyes,
Remembering what once was, under the skies.
In quiet reflection, I found a trace
Of the past intertwined with the present’s embrace.

as if a breathe of fresh air
I saw you on the olive stream
a haze of bendy trunks and quiet
not knowing where the roots will cling,
but it travels the soil nonetheless

now, to hold you at dusk and dawn,
in the gaps between the tree crowns,
a robust engine in a tender, muted forest

I hum to the echo of a whispering twitch

and as you run from edge to edge
I wait for you at the center

Where is the break in our dark,
Where is illumination?
Vis-à-vis, a rational light.
For the contrast is stark
Between those who laze
And those who fight

Real values, and genuine ideals
Beliefs, not steeped, in a false virtue
And causes and movements, the same.
Do they still remain?
In the classes, in the fields,
At home? Never feeling near.

Where is the change?

feelings role-playing
sunny day, depressing night
food, water and sleep.