Good things take time.
Like a season dying
And a new one being born;
Like falling in love
And saying it aloud.
But there is wonderful,
In the most evanescent
And summer storms;
Like snow falling
Only to melt away in the morning.
Like your fingers wrapped in mine,
Like the way you smile when I smile,
Like kissing you…
Like kissing you.
One of the seas
Why have you run off with my heart?
Does the sea not have enough hearts?
Do you not have enough men chase after you?
Why do you do these things to me?
You torture me with every breath
You are my end
When the storms rise and fall
I am in the midst of your fury
How did you fall out of love with me?
I thought I was the only one
My dear Calypso
The end of my life has been spent
dying in your arms
So wash over me
And let the seas become me once more
For I am only a slave to your beauty
In a silent company
Of a snoozing pet cat
Memories knocking at the window
Swirling cloud of smoke and steam from a coffee mug on the window sill
Brown, orange leaves stripped away from trees
Distant song on the radio
Another autumn storm
Followed by another sleepless night
It is easy – easier – to imagine that at the first stirring of the breeze,
Everything ought to be thrown to the wind. The tides are going out
But does that mean that everything on the shore will be swept away?
When I feel the gurgle of the waves on my feet, is it feasible that
God does not intend for me to be drowned? I stand in a pool of possibility:
Root myself deeper in the sand, or surrender myself to the sea. I think
My mother worries about me, 300 miles away, because in our
Distance she senses dissonance. I am the rock face bruised by the wind –
But only because I want to be. She is the lighthouse entreating me to come in
Off the water’s edge, and join her where it is safe and light and where she can
Train her gaze on me in all my darkest days. Am I tempted? Her unblinking eye
Implores me to be honest. How far must I cast my beams for you to find me?
The spray of salt reaches my side before I can answer, and brine beats Light in this race. Storms come and go, and I watch them and hope
For the sake of my mother that when I cry, it goes unheard under
The squall. The wind and waves, unrelenting, ground me in humility.
After all, when a sea-weary sailor spots a lighthouse, does his hand
Quiver on the tiller to change his course, or does the quiet thrilling thought of home
Encompass him, comfort him, call him to stay steady ahead!
We steer clear of the lighthouse: we keep our eyes level,
Our emotions at bay, and clew our sails for the cliff,
A brooding entity rising out of the ocean, recalcitrant: resistant.
My mother keeps my flame burning from another state.
Tender stoking, stalwart tending. I stand tall not because
I know she sees me, but because I can see her doing the same,
Daring the sea to stifle her laugh, her light.
Walking onto this stage,
Feels more like a cage to a faceless audience
They're out there looking for answers,
They're asking what you would do
Until you wake up and there isn't a soul in the room
Except the walls are personified and they're screaming at you
"What's your life plan, kid?"
"That's ridiculous, you should just quit."
"You can do more, even your best is a dead end street."
"Wipe the smile, this is work, you don't deserve to enjoy it."
I quit trying to ever write for anyone but own
So why do I feel like the crowd keeps growing?
They keep asking where I come up with the words to continue,
This eidetic memory makes me relive everything I've been through
My future self is making these poems take form
I'm Link and this is my Song of Storms.
So when I take a breath, I know my time isn't due
Felt the warmth of the day, made it a night without harm.
Standing out on this stage,
I realize this whole image is useless,
Throw down the mic and give a face to the faceless
I don't have much time, don't make me second guess if I waste it.
It's funny, the nameless strangers tell me I'm killing this game.
The people who speak frequent act like the hydra has 50 heads unslain.
I'm confused how people seemlessly seem to relate success with stress
They're pissed I paved a path without losing my mind
These walls can scream all they want
I'm self-made and made it my own, the audience is blind.