A distant 'something' of fleeting promise,
Ephemeral as the fading dream
And yet, as certain in its
Tentative inevitability, does my
Life forge its way evermore.
To know I am heading to a place,
But not the truth of my destination,
To be a part of the living
Is also to be made
Into an unwitting traveler, forever grasping
Around in the hazy, dark light of time,
Passing by, adrift,
Ultimately juxtaposed into 'choices'
I am 'forced' to make
To live
To learn
To change
To just...be.
Into the crushing unknown do we
All find ourselves trudging alongside.
And for all that mystery,
All that wonder,
Every doubt,
Or question upon question,
I've found my compass; nothing will deter me now.

Sometimes i wonder
What is this circus
Who are the players
What are the rules
How
How do i become a part of it in the day
And if i ever get detached in the night
when the joker stops smiling and goes back home
Sometimes i wonder
What is real and what is the facade
What am i and what trapezes they want me to pull from
Watching silently
As my instincts fade in between
In between the lights on and the lights off
Sometimes i wonder
What my heart thinks
What is taught in the circus
And the gap that traverses within
And then i wonder
Why
Why and how is that gap so huge
So huge that i cant find the ends of it
On searching all the recesses
This empty huge gap
Between what my heart thinks and what is taught in the circus!

I have, throughout my life,
often been beset with a sort of
sickness,
a longing located
deep within my
shoulder blades for
wide white wings with which
to fly high away
from this world
and all it's little troubles.

Never before have I been so
afflicted than as I sit
in view of the world's walls,
these wide wild mountains.
It is as if I cannot
bear the thought
of being unable to touch
something so much greater
than my self.

Wary of the worth of a moment in mortality,

consider this from

everafter. This
now
right
thought, breath of fresh
heirloom memory thread for ever more,

for what a measure of attention spent here
is worth, in terms of how we
spend hours predicting next tic
of being being us humans, wait, we or us, is
there here an ob-sub
top-bottom,
in-out
on
emerging dis-asterisk-ic fawking aural tic

me-chanical, i can-icles,

grinning like a fool, without the fool's feeling
seeping to the surface.

Each fool may take for granted hearing ears,
I say I think is true, so
I let it be true,
I believe.
y'know.

--- Leave me say, I had help. At the unbelief stage,

--- in old age, I mean, being dared to pray,
aloud
so all may hear. In 2019, that's louder than any Muza whatchallah
minaret con
cinco de-ift instancio
todo dia

WHAT LIES DO I BELIEVE?

First, I believed I knew what you believe believe means,
as an activity
we manage.

So, an answer,

it seemed, but there are all manner of unaccounted for
idle words, piling up to critical
mass

Each word ever formed to hold a meaning fast for use in futures,
past the edge of
our bubble,
dear reader, ami Am I ity or enmity --- Can't your Great Mind Requiring

Proof Positive Points Pretend?

Good, let's pretend to be.

Putting my thoughts on to paper
Letting the words flow out on their own
Never knew I'd like writing
Breaking out of my comfort zone

Harder than it seems
Trying to express what I feel
Opening my heart and soul
Trying to keep my words real

Looking to what I wrote
From ending to the start
These words have heavy meaning
These words are from my heart

It helps with my hopelessness
Gives me the ability to cope
Writing these words down
Gives me the ability to hope

they look at it like x marks the spot
in a cradle of apprehension they are caught
in a chrysalis of fear and self-fulfilling prophecies
disturbed sleep descends like cold blankets on colder memories

they fiddle with the dirt with their calloused toes
an imprint of hope on the sands with their soles
the fleeting winds chide them with gales in the night of day
once a broken mind, a broken heart you’ll stay

turned head twisted neck on the floor broken back
from the burdens of many, their condolences in a sack
tugged along for many years to come,
a mission long lost, aimless as the sun
travelled paths leave marks like many stains
of fights long lost and won, of broken limbs and pain
weathered faces carved into fallen pebbles chipped off a boulder
made for something big, something more, just resting on your shoulders