Life has a way of speaking to you,
If you allow yourself to listen
So many days fly by without notice
Without meaning or difference.

Life has a way to show you the path
When we think we are travelling all alone
Sometimes we don't know where we're going
Living life blindfolded.

Life has a way of showing you
Your true self and that of others
If we would only tune in
To those around us.

Life can give you abundance
If we only realise the true worth
Of the things around us
We take for granted.

Life can give you true happiness
If we only let go
Of our comparison with others
And if we take ownership
Of the direction of our lives.

but what's the purpose of this thing
of these collections of free-styled
words
why are they together and
what do they mean as a whole?
i used to think that a poetry book had to make sense
used to think that
it was wrong to bounce from one feeling to another
but then i thought
that's all a human being ever does (do)

If life has a purpose,
What would it be?
Getting to know God
Before entering eternity?
Becoming someone God can entrust
With Kingdom responsibility?
Learning how to give ourselves
To loving sacrificially?
Training us for the future world,
Where God's children reign victoriously?
Building friendships through life's hardships
That nothing and no one can come between?
Accomplishing works and fulfilling dreams
That bring Heaven's joy to humanity?
I believe all of the above could be true,
As well as more I currently cannot see.

The suffocating feeling when you lose your purpose
It’s so uncomfortable, I suppose
To lose that light on the horizon
It’s very arduous thinking for a reason

A reason to live
A purpose that I believe
That I can traverse blade and fire
Just for that reason, my desire

When problems fade, when reasons wane
We seek for burdens to weigh us in the world of the mundane
The feeling of weightlessness we don’t much entertain
We seek, have seen, and then seek another once again

It’s very ironic the purpose of the past
We hope to be relieved from our crosses
But when we do relieve it, our minds become lost
No driving force left, we then hope it never ceases

Problems are a proof of life
For problems is life’s unending strife
Solve it then seek anew
Let’s solve them without further ado

My problems, my blessings
Thanks be to god for these things
Without stress, there’s no joy in relaxation
If there’s only rest, we’ll be full of vexation

i.


not bad,
i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing
for the first time ever ;
not bad was my way to say
extraordinary
still is today
i have standards, you see and —
well...
they were met when i
heard you say,
"that's only half what
i can do."

let's get this straight:
i was the best at what i do until
you came around ;
it's not like i'm mad though —
quite the opposite 
in fact.


ii.


here's something else:
i have always liked the way your eyes
shot daggers
even when you were smiling ;
a death stare, they named it and, you know,
i won't call them wrong —
i'm rather fluent with the concepts of
death
and staring myself, after all.


ah,
do you remember?
when we spoke to each other —
it was always a sparring of
eyes
rather than words.


iii.


a fact:
you have been called cold
more often than
you have been called pleasant ;
i know  —
it's not like you'd disagree
not like you'd be stupid enough to
deny ;
cold is a comfortable shadow
to hide in,
something people like us
wear as a coat or
a scarf
from july to june.


now,
there's this saying that the addition of
two negative objects
turns them a positive
result ;
i'm not much of a scholar so, honey,
what's on your mind?


iv.


i get it now,
if i'm propellers
you are wings —
rather than a mirror, we're
distorted reflects
a thing evolution knows
a great deal about ;
this yearning is the aspect of you
i'd wish to keep
bottled up ;
"what for?" you'd ask.


no,
yearning is not a thing
i'm a stranger to ;
i've yearned for many things including
strength
sleep
serotonin
and you —
i've been struggling
to make them mine, though
perhaps because i'm never really trying.


v.


that's how you do it:
you take what you want with
clawed hands
accomplish miracles with
thunderous silence —
an entity of cruel fairness,
icy anger but —
what you want is a complicated
thing
with definite shape to your eyes
but blurry to those of
others.


okay,
i'm neither believer nor seer but
here's a little prediction :
the day you are satisfied is the day
hellmouth
shuts down upon us all and
half of me
prays for it.


vi.


about extremes —
some will say grey is a better shade and
though i confess
it does have its charms,
it still has to paint me a picture more striking
than a soul with
adamentine purpose.

see —
i stare as you pass by,
terrific in beauty
beautiful in hardness and
off —
goes my heart, sanity, ego
and shirt.

I have trudged and rolled through the cold wintery days and the springtime of freedom is here at last.

You will not spoil this for me.

You too will pass.

You,
My counterpart,
My blood,
My muse,
I was born with you,
And I will fight by your side.
I will go with you,
And I will die for you.
You are the reason my heart burns,
You are the reason my stomach churns.
For what the world does to you.
You beautiful ocean,
And you don't even realize
The world dumps garbage
Into your great sea.
You are loved.
By me, and more importantly,
You are loved by God.
He wants a relationship with you.
Don't think so?
He made you,
And Christ died
So you could belong to Him.
And I hope to be His vessel,
Here to tell you just how much you are loved.
And you are my muse,
Here for a reason you do not yet know.