Life: No Instructions included.**

Broken parts lead to a broken heart.
The say its darkest before the dawn.
Now you're left waiting for that day.
Hoping that when she comes she'll stay.
You're not perfect but neither am I.
You're pretty the way you are, so why hide?

January’s light is bright and sure;
Skipping, dancing, o’er river and moor.

February’s lamp is warm and yellow;
Prancing, jumping, like faeries so mellow.

March’s candles are orange and cool;
Autumn leaves drop into the pool.

April’s sun is starting to fade;
Slowly, slowly, trying to evade.

May’s moon is cold and bright;
Illuminating even the darkest night.

June’s glow is small and short;
So little present, so dearly sought.

August’s dawn is soft and thin;
But slowly growing from the dim.

September’s beacon is red and crescent;
Emerging from the darkness to be ever-present.

October’s star is hot and strong;
The days and shadows are growing long.

November’s torch is happy and loud;
Laughing and playing alongside the crowd.

December’s bulb is joyous and true;
It was lighted for me; it was lighted for you.

O' what sadness comes
with January.
After all the Christmas bells
have rung their final
tune
and New Year has been
cried with united hints
of regret,
a melancholy air
falls.

Maybe it is the perpetual
fear of man,
of beginnings
and the sense
of our winged lives
flying by while we pray
our oars will take us
somewhere brighter.

Or perhaps I am being
pseudo profound

Though don't you get
a summing sense of January
in the Christmas tree?

It leans bare, sadly against
your house while the
fairy lights
are packed away
into cardboard boxes

We take on the world, expecting to be taught.
Without realization that some things need to be sought.
We expect to observe and learn from the faults of others,
We indulge in ourselves & all else we smother.
Kick back, feet up, taking notes on all mistakes...
All of which are plausible, one day they may even hold us at stake.
All in hopes to prevent the inevitable,
Not even taking the time to consider if the source is credible.

The notepad is stored, somewhere in the depths of our head,
& a spark of motivation is all there is left said.
However, words can only do so much.
It's like learning of love, but never experiencing it's touch.
Actions speak louder than words, a common cliché.
Yet this quote spells out a more blissful way.

Put down the pen and start facing change.
Stop holding onto one outlet, take on a perspective with more range.
Find your footing, let experience lure.
Breathe meaning to your actions, bring life to your words.
This world can be cruel, mean, even terrifying...
A series of unfortunate events is difficult to find satisfying.
But this is where we all must learn…
Somethings in life need to be churned.
Things that can't be discovered, taught, or found.
With this realization comes a beautiful sound.
You see, happiness does not exist, it is a creation.
One we each must take on for our own, that's the only way for self revelation.

Dig deep into your soul,
You will discover new and old.
Shine light upon what is in hibernation.
Mold your own path, instead of back tracing.
Life is short, but you can make it worth while.
Live fully, find what brings out your true smile.
Hold onto the good, release the negative, & construct the best.
Eternal bliss indeed exist, it just blends well with the rest.
So open your mind, embrace your soul, & move to the beat of your heart.
You will stumble across happiness one day, but there is only one way to start.

april cut into the city
in long fingernail scratches
of running water and suddenly brown gardens
and the air fell heavy onto the eaves
of houses eager to open their doors

i stepped out and spoke
into a space filled with spring
just trying to hurry things along, i guess
trying to warm the air
trying to clear the path
trying to make some sense of this transition

i stepped out, leaned forward
and spoke
too soon, i guess
because the mercury sank coldly back into the glass
and the rain became needles, the trees thread
threatening to sew winter back into the sky
and the air retreated back
into a dull winter chill
as if afraid of my open chest
displaying december's frostbite
and january's cold words

and i apologized silently
to the city and myself
for thinking winter could be defeated so easily