Sadness is finishing a great novel
on the train to work
and carrying it home
empty of suspense,
with a faint hope
for the yet unpublished sequel.

as in clouds so in words
many things seen and read
hiding keys affirming revelations
in the unseen and unspeakable

i wanna write you
as much as you wanna
read me

Reading the Bible, when Jesus died
Each time I was feeling suicidal. Grab onto the rifle,
Feeling ****** in those cycles. Who am I though, in the
These staying thoughts, wondering where to go?

Reading a newspaper, to impress the daily
Struggles of my neighbour. Asking for a teaspoon of cooking
Oil as a favour. We all bleed the same, but act as if we’re
Not made from the same creator?

Reading the comments, the racial barriers,
Looking black, but I was told I belonged to the coloureds.
White tongue speaking, too seem a little different, yet
I wasn’t regardless. A garden of people, but why did it feel
Like we weren’t any part of those pretty flowers?

Reading the gimmicks, the fake prophets, and
All of those acting religious. Irreligious, eerie thoughts
Of those seeing their own hate as a witness. Can you believe
This, or are we the generations just to repeat this?

Reading up on the icon, believing one could be my
Saviour while they’re well gone. I could remember all
Of the lyrics of a trendy song. But not enough verses of
My Bible with the dust on. Would I rise less to Heaven by
The next dawn?

Reading the tears of years, I’ve got the tragedy of
Losses to former peers. Not in death, but feels like it
When we haven’t spoken in years. It’s clear we weren’t
Here for too long, to relate on our greatest fears.

So I’m just reading, reading, reading,
Never to stop reading all that I see.
I’ve read into so much matters of this crazy world,
My eyes at times bleed.

I read on...

you can see the forward
in my eyes
skin lined with the people
to so far thank for the ride
if you delve into the chapters
there's a need to sit down
this is no fiction nobody's clown
the story will end
right in front of your eyes
where I am standing
without my disguise

A mystery you can read and hear:
reading without understanding
and hearing without seeing

The wicked studied and searched diligently
to be on the right side at the right time
only revealing and judging themselves as evil

For without the Prophet's spirit
your interpretation reveals your spirit
oblivious to its grotesque nakedness

Only in private are mysteries explained
as parables were thousands of years ago
for you don't throw pearls to pigs

Then the mystery is as plain as the news
but not as the world count news
even as time is not as the world count time

Infuriatingly frustrating to speak plainly
it's obvious and inescapable as the sun
then your eyes open and you see the blind

Broken, stumbling, falling and crawling
proud of their wits, strength, and unity
I turn to see and touch the face of the sun

People who give love to others
should do it without any conditions. Unfortunately so many people place conditions on love for other people. That is not selfless nor free.

It's difficult to describe,
as if something your eyes
have never seen yet you
struggle to put iit into words.
It's like being melted into
one another, in the middle of the horizon’s beautiful swirling colors.

Time flies at ultrasonic speeds
  spent happily.
Each other putting their own
happiness and needs above
  their own, for their soulmate and yet it's not a sacrifice:
It makes you happy to be compelled
  in such a way.
There's no competition, you're as if
  one, and that makes a hell of a team
There's no fear in this true love.

It always adds to one’s life; it never “takes away” or brings pain or unhappiness. It is not one sided
nor can it ever be “lost”; hence, True Love is everlasting (just like it is in romance novels and fairy tales).
~Author Ven J Arnold