Do you remember?
When you told me i am a bizzare monster unable to love
Ugly pig that no one will ever want.
Do you remember?
The day you say you don't want me
The moment when your hands got me bruises
The second when you pushed me to thinking...
I. WANNA. DIE.
No matter how hard i tried to please you and dad
It was always not good enough.
I just wanted you to be proud of me
To love me...
When i was crying in my bedroom, squizing my pillow, pulling my hair out of my head, shouting noiselessly.
I told you one day i wanna **** myself.
Do you remember?
You told me to do it.

The eternal journey.
You can’t save yourself, you must be good & kind; and in time, this will help save others, from themselves.

It’s not a short term plan…
And you have to have faith and conviction, for you won’t be there to witness the final result.

I am a bundle of thread
I am a thorn
I am unspooling
I am shorn
I am a needle
I am the haystack
I am off-beaten
I am the path
I am a carriage
I am a horse
I am the outcome
I am the cause
I am the future
I am the past
I am the now
I am what lasts
I am a soldier
I am a fool
I am the Weapon
I am a Tool
I am rusted
I am unhinging
I am broken but
I am glinting
I am fractured
I am golden
I am beauty
In eyes beholden.

“Lumen,” meaning light in Italian,
“Luna,” moon in Spanish.
Luminary; a person who inspires or influences others—
A natural body of light.

An illuminated individual saying,
“I’m bright. I’m seen.”

I always liked how the Moon shines and brightens the night.
They lead their storm of stars in the dark blue sky.
Everyone below could see as they would confidently stride.
Humans and fireflies might make their own light, but neither could compare to that of the moon.
Lumin is a bright leader, casting their light onto the world.

Lumin isn’t intimidated by those who can’t handle their radiance.
They keep shining on anyway.

So why am I?

Like digging graves in the backyard
Or an emotional credit card
You can put things aside for a bit
But if you wait and wait for it
To go away, you'll end up with
A garden full of what is dead
And an inner world in debt.

_M.

Its all part of grief, all part of life
Suffering and pain and strife
And smiles and comedy and fun
The stars, the moon, the skies and sun
They're all aspects of this cool "one"
That some have come to know as God
Or Nirvana, Universe
They are all words in the verse
Of seeing life through your own lens
There wouldn't be as much suspense
Without heavier words such as
The death of love or a sad pass
Poetry comes through the contrast
Of sea and stone and monotone
Is something no one should aim for
When reading about themselves,
If you're in pain, congratulate yourselves
You dont realize how much
Life you're living with the touch
Of grief that you're letting be seen
You've never been more akin
To love than now, the lines are full
Not half like the sun at noon

So while it hurts and brings much dread
I need to admit love is dead
And it is not coming back
At least not on the same track

And I'll be honest it's not fun,
Sometimes not even the least
But they don't call it "good grief"
For nothing...

Do they? =))

_M.

Live
in
Ode
to the
Voyage
of
Ephemerality

_M.

Did you come here to pass the time
that would not pass without you?

Did you come here to move the time
that would not be moved without you?

Did you come here to meet the others?
To ask why they were leaving?

Did you come here when summoned
Is that summons what you believe in?

Did you come here of your own free will
before there was a you?

Did you come here from chaos?
Did chaos come from you?

Did you come here to dream a dream
that touched no one but you
And tell no one but always act
As though that dream were true

Did you come here from want or will
And all that came before?

Did you come here not knowing
Did you leave not knowing more?

Did you come here to pass the time
That would not pass without you?

Did you come here to move the time
that would not be moved without you?

I wonder what Jesus would say,
If he found out today,
That the cross, where he hung, torn and bruised,
Has become our most sacred jewel.

Would he gaze at the wood with surprise,
See his pain in our reverent eyes?
Would he question the meaning we found,
In a tool meant to press him down?

The nails that pierced through his skin,
The crown that dug deep within.
A death we immortalize in form,
But forget it was born in the storm.

I wonder, would he smile or weep,
At this symbol we carry so deep.
And ask if we’ve missed the point,
Where flesh met iron, and faith disjoint?

Would he ask why we cling so tight,
To the image of his final night?
Why we exalt the end of his breath,
And make a monument of death?

Is this the legacy he would choose—
A symbol of all that he’d lose?
Does eternity shrink or expand,
With a cross gripped in every hand?

I wonder if he’d feel estranged,
From the meaning we’ve rearranged—
To worship the gallows, the nails, the pain,
And not the life that rose again.