on this hill a poet can see how
the tip of the forest is the dance-floor for light, how
silent sediments don't notice our steps
yes, there are mythologies of darkness in the bracket (some are ready to take the plunge) but
I am here to watch the evening simmering, the light letting go of itself
the tide of sight attuned with the air discarded by trees
my bones run in a depth even when time calls a truce with itself

Tomorrow is
nebulous at best.
A dream of one
who still sleeps.
You are alive now.
Awake in this fresh
green world.
In the planning, we
forget to live.

Ask the mice and men
how plans go.
There are traps and
trivialities that keep
you from carrying on.
Funny things happen on
the way to the bank.
My mom died while
grocery shopping.

Today, peers back at
you from the mirror.
Breath and heartbeat.
Desire and passion.
No one survives this
story.
You're the author and the
protagonist, write it
well.

Five more minutes with you, my love.
Our bodies entwined,
sewn together by ribbons of love.

Rest your head in the crook of my neck, my sweet boy.
Let your mind surrender to peace.
For here time stands still,
silent promises, whispers of love.

In your embrace I am forever safe.
Warmth blossoms from your hazel eyes,
that perfect smile, your gentle touch
where love resides.

Five more minutes with you, my love.
Our bodies wrapped together - a perfect fit,
souls dancing forever unbound.

Time appeals to those who wait,
A calendar without a date.
No point of interest here or there,
A nomad life without a care.

Until one day a lone chance fleeting,
Made in haste upon a lazy greeting.
Will you dip your toe within those rivers,
Of contraband? and selfless givers.

Upon the rostrum bear your soul,
As naked as a childs doll.
While new sensations spark the senses,
you seize your mind but body tenses.

So onward! now from past decay,
Yes! homeward bound youll start today.
To feed the mind instead of silence,
You now see beauty in the violence.

Such wild distemper of a troubled mind,
Seek recompense in all you find.
For time is always on the side,
Of new Spring flotsam on the tide.

So grasp that oar with all your might,
Muster all your nerves to fight.
Lifes breaking waves and vicious tide,
For time is always on your side.

In a world where power is the
                    government’s rule,
       A boy receives a gift—a power to
                        change it all.
  The girl who grants it, a force beyond
                             control,
  Her gift will shape the future, but at a
                       cost she’ll call.

"To **** you...
Was that my fate?"
He questions, seeing
The final state.
"You lived just to die?"
He asks in pain.
                                        Yes, my life was
                                         never plain.
"Then why give me
This cursed power?"
                                        To face the truth
                                       In this final hour.
                                       In this world,
                             where ends must start,
                      Life exists to break hearts.
"But life's more
Than just an end!"
It's moments, feelings-
Just to mend.
                                     "No!" She says,
                                 "death's part of light,
                                   Without it shadows
                                    Fill the night."
"You think it's
Wordplay!"
He says with fire,
"Why are we born,
If not to aspire?".      
                                   She smiles softly,
                                   Her truth untold:
                                 "Hope and meaning-
                                   Flickers bold.
                                   To live for death
                                   seems too cold,
                                 But without the end,
                                  Life grows old."
"No, I won't accept
This fate!"
He shouts, feeling
The weight.            
                                 "If you believe in
                                  what's true,
                                  Take my life, it's
                                  Left to you.
                                  Strike me down,
                                  and you will gain,
                                  Change this world
                                  From joy to pain."
But then he spoke
With his eyes so deep,
Words that woke her
Up from sleep:
"You don't have to die
To be free,
Your the reason
I still breathe."
                                  Her gaze softened,
                                  A tear fell free-
                                  In that moment,
                                  She chose to be.

A park bench, and
A yellow orb nukes its core
a million times per second in space.
Somewhere, a man spoke his last word,
Or an infant giggled at her father’s scruff.
A black hole light-years away
engulfed another black hole of lesser mass;
the surrounding planets spaghettified.
Yes, this park bench is.
And you,
sit there with a leg over mine.
Wrinkles on your iris orbit a black hole,
visible because of our star.
It's just you and I,
sitting on a bench.

Each smile a map, each line a trail,
Etched softly on the skin's embrace.
A journey marked in fine detail,
The story written on your face.

The laugh that danced around the eyes
Still lingers in a softened fold,
A map of moments, lows and highs,
A quiet story, gently told.

Not every crease was born from pain,
Some stem from joy that overflowed.
Expressions that we can't restrain,
Emotions that our hearts bestowed.

So wear these lines with quiet pride,
They are the footprints of your days.
A testament to life applied,
A living poem on your face’s page.

Every thing made,
Not from human-kind
As if humans knew
Kindness, From this earth
Has a song each its own.

The melodies of every stone
Of every branch, from every
Droplet of a wave,
The Wave itself
Lends a message that is held
Together by the sun.

The lyrics cast light
On every shadow
Drawing maps of age
And wisdom along a line of Ink
So fine that it remains hidden
Behind what it means to be alive.

Every thing is a seed
With its own song
Rooting up for no reason
Heavy, even as the weight
Of a raindrop tries to be measured
In its sheer amount, the music will
Outlast this and every season
Beyond this
the orchestra of time.