it always seems that life is happy to remind you
that it doesn't owe you anything.
it doesn't owe you happiness.
or friends.
it doesn't even owe you an explanation
of what happens at the end of your story.
but guess what?
you don't owe life anything either.
you don't owe anything to anyone except yourself.
it's your time. your happiness. your choice.
because it is your story.

We sit on the edge of conversation
Hands clasped, feet shuffling anxiously
Eyes darting across the room like
the stars in the night sky
You lean back with a sigh
and I catch you.

Hands together, knees bent
fingers touching skin
Tracing outlines of mountains on the map you offer me
You look up from my gaze and a calmness falls across your face
The corner of our eyes don't wonder but meet
Times entangled in the feast before us
I raise a leg and your knee greets my feet.

Waters greet these feet,
Waters that rage on and under us
Washing over our bodies like the light that’s wrapped itself beside us
Bodies become one in the heat of the den that we've made
In the depts we've paid
The depths we've obeyed
The trust we've displayed

Down by the rivers where the whomping willow weeps,
where the waters run ramped, and the wild things wonder
wonder about life, wonder about death
run through your mind son, be absent, be bold
just don’t forget that the water man reaps
reaps in what is sown, sold and told

whispered. whispered like silence on the edge of the wind
the wind that howls through the corner of beauty
there where it stays and sits for a while,
as the man, he stands, waiting watching on duty.
I look back to you, your face changed by the cut of a smile.

A smile.
That smile, that warms my soul like summer breeze,
Wraps me up and takes me in from the cold
You don't even realise, you do it with such ease
You do it now when we're young and you'll do it when we're old.

We sit, once again, as we used to, but more alone
Hands together, fingers crossed, in utter isolation
It’s such a wild thing, wild life that we’ve known
And none of it is ripe for an explanation.

Feet dancing on the edge of contemplation
This information that we use for the source of our meditation
Imagination sparks conversation but also speculation
So, what are we to do when there’s no confirmation?
A shout shuddering in the darkness of creation
Thinking of the combination, representation and motivation for these words when all I ever wanted was a simple conversation.

Time, much time, beyond that humanly knowable
Shrouds the lie that many monkeys wrote war and peace
Unprovable even as Ulukadu exists in a far far place
But I know it lives, is green, has a rainbow tail, and flies

and i fear when seasons
and anything in particular
changes
its rooted far from rational explanation
reason removed, because i know
change is good
and those things that come with it
i know, i know
twelve thousand fold
for how long have i been told
fearing of change
is folly
when life is change
odd and strange
as paintings by dali

Tongue tied like shoelaces.
I don't need an explanation or proclamation.
Walk out the door without a second take.
Baby, don't you see?
How you leave is an art.

You left me with no explanation after I told you that I loved you. I felt like a jilted bride left standing at the altar.  You once looked into my eyes and told me that you could feel it if it were real. It was real for me. But you changed your mind when it came to your feelings for me. Was I that wrong? Did I misunderstand you when you told me that I was the one? Did I misinterpret it when you told people that I was your lady as you introduced me to their acquaintance?  Did I get it wrong when we went to the jazz concert, when you kissed me for the first time in front of a room full of other jazz enthusiasts? Was I dreaming when you laid next to me at night and held me close while we slept?  You know what, the only thing I was wrong at was, giving you ANY time of day!