an ember on a pile of burnt coals
can’t help but feel engulfed by darkness

if only it could adopt the perspective
of the fingers, frozen, nearby -
resting on the bones of a ribcage
of an icy body; akin to its own
that it would see its reality with clarity

for those people:
that ember is
hope in the face of an empty matchbox;  
it will keep them warm.
that ember is
a promise of light.

just as it did before
it will burn bright once more
and not only will it shine
but it will burn through the darkness
for all those other broken coals

everything will be okay
a reassuring phrase
used by
people
that don't possibly know
the outcome
or
the future

When sands grind me bare
and my world's gears stop turning,
I look to the wind

and wait for the sky.
for the sun to rage off of
my range of vision

until stars come out,
instead of looking at feet
I fix to the sky.

my star stares me straight
directly in my third eye
'sit still my son please

I've sat here for years
let me tell you a story
of Earth at its start.

the planet's alive,
a lot like you can't you see,
from fire and storms

mass extinction, death
out of, the earth came to be.
Earth was weak until

she spun her core so
tightly and quickly the wind
came alive. With that

planet earth found a  
cure for her fire. She found
beauty in balance,

constructed karma,
founded shifting sands of time,
dynamically brought

concepts of good and
evil to war with each other.
Positioned herself

in her suitable
orbit. Just follow the earth,
sit down, tame the fire.

Spin your existence
like her, and maybe you'll see
there's no need for breath

when wind fills your lungs.
Find your own balance within,
fight your own battle

learn desire serves
to feed flames, continue pain
life makes suffering.

Don't lose this battle
or your forces might make you
stay the same person.

If after you find
yourself trapped up on the moon,
don't fear traveler.

Fleeing far from home
you have started your journey!
One day you may find

Your own heaven place,
a perfect spot just to watch
the cosmos below.

And a star like me,
one day you're destined to be.
transcend all your pain

until we same speak.'
That's why I look to the stars,
through unsurety

I will keep swimming.
Knowing one day full well, I
belong in the sky.

You're turning eighteen.

I know you think it's a big deal, and well, yes, you should celebrate it. But for the most part, things are still the same and change is yet to come. You will wake up still with acne scars. You will wake up still with painful memories carved into your thighs. You will remember that once it wasn't like this and you will have the vague sense that even what you have now will soon no longer be.

Rejoice in the fleeting nature of this moment, with its infinitesimal relevance and infinite beauty. You live here in this ever-changing space; nothing stays the same and you let yourself be carried from day to day. You drift. You watch the landscape of your heart slowly change. Sometimes the sun is creeping over the horizon and the sky is painted in your favorite colors. Sometimes you watch the sky shed tears and apologize for its mistakes. Sometimes you feel filled up with it.

You're turning eighteen. You're scared. And no, you will not wake up entirely different. You will have to keep being alive without knowing what it means. You will still have to be alone. This is your body. This is your soul. This is your brain; these are the demons you've created, monsters you've fed. This is your heart; these are the cracks, these are the bruises which are still tender, still blue.

If you listen closely, it is still in pain, fighting to beat each second. It remembers how you kicked and screamed and threatened to hit it, beat it to a ****** pulp, if it refused to give up on its own, to just stop, to pack its bags and leave behind a sunken, shriveled mess. You remember you were wearing tennis shoes and holding a baseball bat.

Sometimes, inside you, there are thunderstorms no one can tell are brewing. It's just the weather. Tell yourself that. It's something you will have to put up with and make adjustments for every day of your life. So pack an umbrella, buy pink rain boots and a matching polka dot rain coat, if you want. Bandage your heart better, prop it up with stilts, and whisper good things to it sometimes.

Say you've made it this far.

tell me you want me
tell me you need me
and promise me
you'll never leave me

When your patience wears short,
And the day seems too long...
When the night's first report
Sings a disappointing song...
You'll want to leave your ship of port,
And I'll remind you:
You are wrong.

Fickle be the weather,
For though the wind seems too strong,
Save your vigil for the sunrise
And don't believe that I am gone,
Because I'm here, and I will tell you,
Stay your sails,
For you are wrong.

It is a difficult decision,
Without crew to spur you on,
To depart on frigid waters
And ignore the siren's song.
You may fear that I'm not with you.
You may feel that I don't miss you.
...but here's my only issue:
You are wrong,
You are wrong!

I like to be reassured,
If I’m not I worry and stress.
so I try to tell you often,
about how you’re not like the rest.