I love solos.  
The courage to stand out front, in front of those consigned to the choir, acknowledging the support they provide with a gracious wave, but not afraid to take the acclaim justly due, front stage.

I love solos.
They celebrate breakthrough, on cue drawing attention away from the typical duets, the quartets, the ensembles, tempering a tendency to celebrate humble, to focus on a singular achievement and an agreement that this is a voice worth listening to.

I love solos.
So step out, take a bow
and make it loud.

Painting glossy images of life and
laughter
sitting near the window thinking about what has gone and what could have happened;

folded hands in prayers restless minds over sleepless nights counting stars over wishes to push the button~ renew, restart and rebuild.

Alarm rings to wake us from unsettling nightmares
Chores and stern face to pursue for bills await and responsibility to ensue.

When the night crawls in
the cyclic pain begins.

Under the stars,
when the morning already arose.
Under darkness, a new light grows.
Exposing itself. In the dark there is a rose.

All on my own,
penning the thoughts of my dome.
Angels calling me home,
demons not leaving me alone.
Questioning my livelihood and sanity.
If people knew the me real,
a lot of them wouldn't be proud of me.

What a tragedy!

Crossing through borders,
waiting for what lurks on the other side.
You don't know what you might face,
till the new battles are what you find.

But I've placed all of my worth in that rose.
I hope it's brave enough to grow,
and cuts down the darkness with it's thorns.
In reference to the first stanza,
each line is on it's feet. They stand out!
In the dark, I realize I'm not a kid anymore.
But a rose at times. I must develop,
and fully grow. The old petals die out,
and the new ones will show.

Solo fears, I fear less of them,
feeling less on my own.
The moonlight beckons. She calls.
Open my sights to hope,
to those fears, I close the doors.

Midnight, she calls.

I suppose, I can no longer ignore.
I suppose, I must go.
I suppose, all things call for your soul.
I suppose, for me, the darkness I fear it no more.

Midnight, she calls.

So loud that everything seems to be low.
At the lowest point of my life, my soul tends to glow.

Midnight, she calls.

So loud that it echoes in tiny corners, till it breaks. It has a lot to show us.

Still Midnight, she calls.

In the solo moments I have to listen
out for wisdom.
Feeling in the dark corners of myself, to know what is missing.

The solo Midnight, she always calls. But I'm not solo anymore.

Your body jerks as you heave yourself out of bed.
The clock reads 5am.
Your phone vibrates,
It’s here.
The countdown is over.

A few long hours,
And caffeinated up,
You arrive,
The sun dances on your skin.

Unpack, freshen up,
Then hit the streets.
You wander aimlessly,
And endlessly.

Eating, sleeping, drinking and waking,
Whenever your body clock requires.
The schedule has been stripped,
Your busy days gone.

You set the rules,
You make the decisions.

Want to people watch with a glass of wine,
Why not?
Want to wander and look at the buildings,
Why not?
Want to sleep in,
Why not?

It’s your trip,
Your story,
Your travels.

The only person you have to depend on is you.