I longed to exist, to actualize.  
               To be cognizant, to perceive.
          I longed to feel and communicate,
                   for a moment of relief.

                            ....................

  So I stood on Earth, consumed by Fire.
My skin crackled and crisped under the heat.

  I wished for release from the searing sensation, a moment of relief.

  Then Water rushed in, meeting me and  Earth.  My skin cooled, Fire squelched with a billow of steam.
  
  Though, while I stood on earth, mud and mire formed.  I found myself stuck in a vacuous trap.
  
  I burned for the freedom, once known.   For a moment of my own.

  As I stood stagnant, a mighty and benevolent gust of Wind caught the sails of my desperation.   And lifting me up, it took me away.

  My heart soared, as did my spirit, and felt the rush of air sweep me to freedom...but I felt untethered...flipping and falling....

  I longed for the structure I once felt, standing on Earth.  Stable and unmoved.  Knowing nothing but stuck yet safe.

I longed for fire to consume me....

                               ..................


          I long to die, to be non-material...
      I long to not be aware, and to not see...
I long to feel no pain, and to speak no more
       For a moment not so disappointing..

The days get longer,
It seems,
With less and less excitement
Life becomes boring.

And the late nights cease,
To wake up for the early sun,
For another long day.
It never really seems to end.

Here I am-
Trapped in a cycle
Of my own unhappiness.
Where I torture myself.

Wasted moment
Over collection of stones
Turning them lime
More like chrome

Older I'm getting
Feeling all weary
Deeper with regrets
Just allowing it to rain

Maybe I should have
Tried to confuse fate
Causing this heaviness
Dwelling on this pale page

I've lost track of my emotions
Am I happy
Am I sad
I can never decide
Each day merging with the last
Succession of regret
A recession of myself
Take me back
Back when I could still feel

a million pieces
  it is how my dreams have become
little by little
  every little break a little
multiply and increase

By next month
  I'd be counting the billionth one
the reality is too real
  I see nothing ticks my list
and I am slowly learning to accept
  I am getting there

Now the darkness took over
  The dreams I see in the night
My back of eyelids
  grant me the solace
From the daily torture of day ones

Sometimes I see a face
  who know how to sew those pieces
it is better I stay clear
  These broken pieces would make a beautiful mosaic
  But any tear ahead will be the sudden death,
I'd be too distorted for any new wreck.

Steel gazes graze the fine lines of iron.

“Tin man, whom does your heart beat for?”

A man asks - voice roaming, ringing bells and bashing gongs.



For a moment all is still.

The shrill clanging of metal stops, the heavy puffs of air suspend.

The tin man looks at him and smiles.

“For myself good sir.”



The answer given adequate time, silence and negative space - the man responds.

“Yourself? Sanity and livelihood or selfishness and arrogance?”

The tin man stood quiet once again.



He had laboured for those who did not labour for him,

Given oil, rust and dirt for those who only lived to use and to hurt.

Why would he beat to give when those who would get spoke only to take?



“I once beat for others. I once donned flesh and matter, but it left me as a shell of myself - a diminished core and deafening chest.”

“I encountered a being of whimsical strength, who woke me up and took my shell to then place a pearl within me.”

“I now beat for myself as gratitude to him who lifted me up when all I could do was lay down.”



The man grabbed him round the neck, nails marking and whispered.

“Dear child, you’ve gotten it the wrong way round.”

“Your pearl was given to be taken away, to return you into the shell of the past."



And the tin man took those words, looked away and continued,

Walking off with the girl and her dog.

Away from the wizard, entrapping himself.