Sometimes I wonder,
Sometimes I ponder,
Why do I love her.

At one look she's valentine,
and the next... she's somebody else

But like a spectre on Holloween's day,
its all but a mask.
A mask that someone else used to wear.
A mask filled with fear, grief and pain.
Masks that fills up the small dents in her heart.

I ran, she glimpsed, I reached, she smiled.
A great story it is. Yet another,
I ran, I reached, an empty look from her face.
A story that makes me cry and kneel to the Lord.

It's a difficult love indeed and temptations are real and big.
Yet, I could not find a reason to steer and drive away.
And against all logic, Love compels me to stay.

The love that compelled my savior to be hanged on a tree.
A love that never gives up,
a love that is defined by no other word than love it self.
Is the love that keeps me going.

It is because of love, that I could not let go.
Because, my savior himself did not let go.
Even at times that I betray and spat him to his face
He did not let go. He held on, He struggled.
He pulled me, He embraced me.

My Rabbi once thought me,
that love is both sweet and deadly.
love in its ultimate form, will lead one person to die.

"Die to self" my Rabbi says.
Until when can I die to my self?

Scarry as it is, I am ready to die in the name of love,
Scarry as it is, I am ready  to die to show one person love,
To lit the light of hope in her, to light back faith in her heart.
As great purposes awaits her, to be a sign of hope is a great pleasure indeed.

So am I crazy enough to lose the world in the name of love?
Sadly, I'am still incapable of loving like my savior does.
For he is perfect and I.... am being perfected.

We are of no comparison,
He was innocent, yet I was guilty.
guilty as accused.
I am but a  mere speck of dust compared to His glory.

O how can I find love in the eyes of my valentine?
I cried out and He answered,
"You don't" He says,
For  love is not about you,
but it is about dying to your self

With this love that I recieved,
I am on my way.
Fighting fears, lies and struggles,
I am on my way.

As love compels me to be,
Therefore I concluded that
I.... must be..... Half-Crazy.

"Handle it with care"
That, I would always say.
To you, I give my heart so fragile;
A risk that I would never dare
To let another hold
Such a thing so rare,
Which you always seem to break
With your trembling hands.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident"
That, you would always say.
So I always have ****** palms,
And marred fingers,
From always picking up
The sharp fragments
Of my once called heart,
That you so fearfully handle.

Mind that I don't blame you
And your frail hands.
I pick up every blood-stained piece,
With a warm smile.
Every tear and sweat
That ran from my face,
Would wash away the stains,
Restoring its brilliance.

Now I realize that rarity
Does not come in fragile form.
It comes in the form of beauty
That endures. Once healed,
The pieces brought together
Illuminate into a colorful mosaic,
Dedicated to you.

Let its splendor captivate you.
A masterpiece that will drive
All the fears and worries away,
As it makes the trembling end.
For they are not just fragments,
But mementos that will last;
Images that will forever gleam,
**Of you and me.

There are no hands willing to help
No voices that ask "how are you's?"
The only sound that I hear
Is the sound of my fearful heart
It beats faster
And my breathing grows harder
As if there is a weight so heavy
Upon my chest

Do I have choices?
No...the hurtful answer
Oh! There's one!
Said the voice inside me
To have no fear
Yes! Be strong and of good courage!

Add a little more patience
Endure a little more pain
You'll never know how much you can endure
Unless you try
The pain will be felt lesser
And you'll get used to it
Be not afraid

Does a weathered heart yearn to be replenished?
Or is it too broken to tick or be tickled by hope?
Do the tears of time drip drop down,
until drip by drip the drops extinguish the warmth
that is pushed from the inside out
by the crisp glow that curls smooth paper
to a glow red feather?

Why does every second second
Pass faster than the first?
So the thirst for the
third, fourth and fifth to slow
becomes an accelerating threat
to the volume of seconds left to pour.

Why is it
that the steady heart beat momentum of time
is distorted by the fluctuating force of perception?
Fluctuating the feel of the pulsating tick tock
of the clock.

How come while time carries on unaware of the damage it causes
we cause the problems
with our endless trek down a trail for questions and answers
and blame time for not stopping to less us do this

Crying and blind, blinking in the dark
We can’t see a thing, we can’t tell
If we’re flying or falling or sinking in the dark
The only thing that is with us
Is the pulsating, unsteady tick tock
Inside us in the dark.

You can feel it,
In the voices of men on
phones in bars
Spitting apologies turned
recriminations.
You can feel it,
In the scratching of strings
on the guitar
of an inmate and the eyes that
stare in the face of disinheritance.
You can feel it,
In the clasp of the couple
at the beginning or the end
In bed in the dark
in a fleshy shell.
You can feel it,
In  the ink on a page
scribbled in rage
that goes nowhere
but leaves you different.
You can feel it,
In screams of a soldier
turned human through pain
calling 'mum!' or 'god!'
dying abandoned .
You can feel it,
In the cries of a child
who's met unfairness
and not learned to swallow the blades
so throws them out in tears.
You can feel it,
In goodbyes that are
lost for words
but language cannot express.
You can feel it,
In the the stretched out fingers
of those trying to reach
a hand or hate or love or life.
You can feel it,
In watching another slip
and slide away
and flail their useless limbs.
You can feel it,
As the morning rain
hits your hand
and cleanses the skin on your knuckle.

You can feel it sting
You can feel it sting
Let it sink in
and feel it.

a tree so strong
never moving
stand your ground
though confusing
to love through the night
though you can't see
to trust with blind faith
this could never be me
enduring through all
with hope so vast
loving all the while
I give hope to those steadfast

He sits on the carousel wheel,
her lover neglectful-
looks over the night as the neon illuminates the shiny people.
He sits on the carousel wheel
and loves to get stuck at the top
so he may contemplate jumping,
so to contemplate swinging with madness
from one
cart
to
another
and then
safely
to the
cart that
holds her. Hero, him.
He looks over the crowd as they swish around him-
sway around him
moving by him as if they were dancing to a song in his head
but he is not dancing.
He's looking for her.
He pops several balloons with a fiery dart
walks away from the girl with the silken stockings held to her
thigh by violet bow...a violent blow to his lustful ways, he looks firmly down
to the dirt on his boots, kicks rocks, kicks air.
Stops at the man who swallows fire from a stick,
"answer me, answer me"-
the man spits ember lies.
He's looking for her in each clown
pulling their make up down with his finger
and it looks like they're crying
so he can't really know
if it is her he has found?
Oh neglectful lover.
He busies himself by winning a prize
for his beloved, his lost
A prize- his reward for believing in true love.
He busies himself, knocks down milk bottles-
and punches the punching bags
insults the slow and disgusted carnie hags,
He moves from gate to gate
and it feels more like Hades
inside
where he's lost her
so he's been lost.
When he's lost her he's scared
that she will not feel, lost but found.
And he will not feel found-
but destroyed.
Teacups to twirl around
the dance he will swirl her around to
the day that he marries her,
if he can find her,
nay- when he can find her...
he'll put her in the teacup ride and
never let the spinning stop.
He'll fill her life with lights and sounds
and cotton candy
and he'll marry her he will
right on the tiptop
of the ferris wheel
where he sits looking round.

sahn 10/19/14