To stand in balance and connection
With the Earth
To stand on one's one
Without depending on anything
Not leaning on a wall for a breakthrough

To breathe on one's own
To breathe fully
Lungs
Blossoming and shriveling
Without the intake of
Toxic fumes
Or liquid rage
Not leaning on a vessel for a
Breakthrough
Attached to now
Love without borders
To be here and smile
Love outside conditions
Or held in the claws
Of expectations
to be here without an excuse
Or a divided idea to fall into

Even if this life
Just spins lives upside down
Simply because it can
Even if after everything
The world has evolved
To explodes in the Sun
Even if life doesn't have
A greater meaning than this
Moment
Even if our legacies
And our pain
Never mattered
Even if we die
And meet death
With blackness
And indifferent regeneration
One day our story will be
Forgotten
And we will never truly know
All the small details
That brought our atoms together

All of our ancestors within us
Encouraging us to stand
And breathe on our own
The animal kingdom
IS
And does not ask questions
All we have to do is look up
To know where it all began
The moon has all the answers
The stars we are made of
Will us to shine
Without illusory fuel
We are stronger than mental reasons
Subject to change at the blink
Of perception
We do not have to give
Our power away
We do not need motivation
To create
We are and it is a miracle
Enjoy the phenomena
That is the all
Expanding evermore
Towards infinity
This is where Existentialism  
Meets Spirituality

Her teeth are crooked skylines of a forgotten city,
Against the summer sun
That goes down and doused in shadows,
All is quiet.

In my mind, there are only mirrors.
And every photo is black and white.
When she smiles,
The colours return.

I put the lamp away and put myself on fire
Things that burn are hard to reach
That is why her eyes stray
Seeking cold shades and warm shelters
Unlike my arms, charred and red
From holding you.

All my paper crowns are ashes
And the empty banks are flooded
With tales of the old.
So by the sleeve of an old sweater,
By the base of a broken tower,
By the loom of this forgotten craft,
By the by
I make myself anew
Out of the cities of you.

And the tired sun rises and settles
In her eyes of fire
Eyes of gold
But inside me, there are only
Mirrors upon
Mirrors
With no reflection.

Here I am
Dressed in the sleeve of a gifted shirt
Muttering words, too fast, in a language you cannot fathom
Hair tousled in the wind, hands waving
Wearing a smile borrowed from an old photograph
Legs thinner than before.

There you lie
Never too far but always at a distance
Forever moving a little bit too quick
And yet, slowing down time
Whispering through a half smile
Like the sun about to rise
From my window
Almost a perfect circle,
She dances.

Here I stand
Building a wall
With each brick, a memory of
No one.
Stealing the night from her eyes
Spinning in the circle
Of perennial dress rehearsal
Adorned with tatters of yesterday
This circus grows vile.

And behind the empty canvas of every mask
Your eyes are open cages
With singing birds
Your words are roads going nowhere
Your mouth, a lake with depths unknown
Even though your tongue is still
But your hands are doors that never open
As you watch me
Watching you
Dangle the world
From your keychain.

We are Mother Earth
We are the soil into which
ideas grow their roots
These dendritic webs of words reach for nutritious extrapolations,
anchored answers that ground, keeping the rain from washing them away and the wind from uprooting them from the dirt.
They sprout out of us
as we nurture them
until they blossom
into another.

Don't get cocky. You're just a coincidence. You're a mash of atoms. You are not special.
You're another group of cells that wanders until snatched by death. You will not leave anything. You do not matter.

You could be the president, you could be a star- you could have an army. It does not matter. You do not matter. You will not leave anything. You cannot, and that is for the best.
You are so, so small. You cannot effect anything. You are just a droplet. A droplet of atoms & brain cells, that goes around telling others they're a special droplet, when you're lying.
But, it's okay. What's a lie in a world of pretentious little atoms sipping tea & reading books?
Make of it what you please, little being. You're no special snowflake.
You are nothing.

The place for the Angels
Is where I would like to be.
Can They hear the echo of my hearbeat
In the lowly ground?
No, probably not.
I wonder how the dirt feels,
All encompassing and eternal.
I'm in it.
To be in it
Is to not feel it.
They know why.
I'm already gone.

It seemed to happen
suddenly.
But looking back I found it was
    g r a d u a l.
It started with
A grandmother 8 and
A mother at 11 and
Then a nother at 14
But then there was
A noose at 17
And after that it seemed to come more often
Then there was
A gun and a school and
   A bomb and a city
But there had been
Guns and
       Schools and
       Bombs and
       Cities
Before but now there were
People and
       Stories and
       Impact and
Suddenly there were friends of friends and
Family of friends and
Suddenly the inevitable shadow at the back of my cognition
Was coming forward and
The light was just that much darker.

It had not been absent from my life
I had never met
My grandparents or
My aunt but
Now I noticed it.

Was it always there?
Silent in the corners
Happening without my knowledge
or care? And
Now it was making itself know? Or
Had it been much smaller before and
Now decided to grow and
       Eat and
       Consume and
       Take and
       Make holes
Because how could it have hidden from me before?
Because it was big I was so small?

It had always been
          An idea
        An abstraction
In books and
       Stories and
       Serial dramas and
       Movies and
       Films and
       Digests and
       Papers and
       Drawings and
       Paintings and
       Photos and
       Movies and
       Sound waves and
       Radio waves and
       X-rays and
       Brain waves and
I remember the day I realized from
Ink on paper in
  Other shapes and
With wet eyes walked into my father’s office
With many I’s like
Don’t want it to happen to you and
Don’t want it to happen to mom and
Don’t want it to happen to sister and
Cat and
Fish and
Friend and
He said “it won’t”
But he knew and
      I knew and
We knew but
What can you say?

So maybe now the abstraction
Became the concretion and
No more could I cry “not me”
Because I was all the other me’s “not me”s and
Now there it was but
There it wasn’t
Always at the corners but
Never right there and
Maybe it never would be there but
Maybe the corners would just get bigger and
The there get smaller until there was no
There
Just corners and
Just darkness.

And maybe that was when it happened.