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ryn Apr 2018
Everyday...
These days
is a race.

Just wished
of all days...
Today,
I’d come in first.
ryn Apr 2018
Confide all you want
But listening ears bleed too
If only you’d see
ryn Apr 2018
We will walk
this crumbling precipice
with the kinks in our backs.

We will pay
no mind and no heed,
the darkness that encroaches
from unassuming cracks.
ryn Apr 2018
Most times,
I wished these fragments...
These fractions of a whole
would come together...

Forming the most astute of thoughts.
Illuminating the darkest of corners.
Piecing together and revealing the grandest of pictures.


But such is the nature
of a convoluted mind
because often times
they do not.
ryn Apr 2018
I thought if the moon turns away,
I’d put an ear to the ground
hoping to hear the earth’s heartbeat.

I thought if the earth revolves
without a whim or a care,
I’d walk with it
so I could confide in the stars.

I thought that if the stars
don't listen,
maybe...

Just maybe you would.
ryn Apr 2018
What’s hidden and buried?

Takes a lot of digging.
But there’s just too many layers,
too much dirt.

What am I looking for?

Takes a lot of dismantling.
But there are too many
cogs and parts so tiny,
they simply fall
through the gaps between my fingers.

Can’t remember...

Takes too much to uncover.
To find a moment
of clarity however brief.
To find a speck in space,
a second in time where I am found.
ryn Mar 2018
Pop me open
and take look in the trunk.

See that I travel light
but with excess junk.

Too deep in this
I’ve indulgently sunk.

It’s what got me so drunk.
It’s what got me in such a funk.
ryn Mar 2018
Glimpses of the past
captured in shots.

Much to relish and savour.
Much to learn from.

But they flash by
all too quickly.

If I could,
these still frames
I’d tessellate haphazardly;
for they never came in sequence.

Then I’d pan out to see
a view of a wall...

Towering to the heavens
as high as my vision could reach,
spanning the horizon
as far as my head could turn.

I peer
but with naked eyes,
a busy mosaic
of my history
told in sepia.
ryn Mar 2018
I am again...

Caught
              in the then and now.

Blind footfalls
              on the treadmill of life.

With a head
              filled with thoughts
              hands full of nothing
              and a heart full of porcelain.
ryn Mar 2018
Lone seed,
nestled in the dirt.
Calling for rain to soothe
its parched skin.

Lone seedling,
finding foothold...
To brave billowing gusts
that threaten its conviction.

Lone tree,
rooted deep.
Set in its ways.
Change is but dream.

Lone fruit,
falls to the earth.
Defenseless and vulnerable.
Bearing the promise of
life and change
within feeble flesh.

Lone purpose.
To learn, embody
and pass on
the baton of possibilities
so that change...

Comes to fruition.
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