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no matter how many times
i've crossed these tracks
nor how old i might now be
i will still feel
that childlike excitement
building within
as i look cautiously
left then right and
left then right again
just to be sure
before stepping across
that first metallic line
a symbol of both
danger and adventure
rechecking the signals
as i cross the second
i have never understood
what those lights tell
of the next train's progress
red yellow green
single or double
flashing or constant
no matter how clear
the tracks appear
the uncertainty of
what might soon be
unstoppably approaching
always sets me on edge
momentarily apprehensive
yet exhilarated by
each rushed step
a celestial body
lesser of age but
brighter in composition
was found to be
unexpectedly disarming
in its distorted form
unable to maintain
its expected shape
it was drawn in by
the voracious needs
of the other's gravity
a starry beckoning
that caused these
entities to draw forth
towards one another
this sharing of energies
a merger however
seemingly not unlike
those observed before

and yet something
about this pairing
steals the attention
of the experts and
the admirers alike
this rotation of one
about the other
guarding devotedly
from perils unseen
in the midst of
this stellar pirouette
there continues a chaos
pulling from all directions
both together and apart
defiant and undeniable
fluctuating with unknowns
eventually to become
Nat Lipstadt Feb 24
The Level of Uncertainty, This Yellow Star

“Even though I’m OK right now,
there’s a sense it could all go
away in a second.”  

a disease well known to me,
not “as if,” but in fact
been Cain-marked at
birth to be wary, be watchful,
ever alert, never inert in the
realm of possibilities,
the king
in my universe’s galaxy is the
randomness of existence,

microsecond, milligram minuscule,
muscular instability that even if

it’s bespoke nature, customized
just for me, lurks, prepared to ****
me into a hard fall, loss of balance

I prepare with subtleties, minute
measures, discrete and indiscreet,
measured steps, slow-wide turns,
“hands on the railing down the stairs we go”
motto~attitudinal, antithesis~carefree,
for this birthmark was forehead installed
from birth, as a reminder that
reckless abandon
is a countervailing force,
and there are whales in the ocean
and whole coteries of fish in the sea,
waiting, wanting to swallow me whole,

lions across the ocean faraway continents
eager for a nibble of my tender heart,
round ****, and
thousands of people
who hate me and my kind, for no reason,
other than my birth mark,
this foreheaded
yellow star,
notifying all eyes, that I am to be dreaded,
feared, for reasons no matter,
just but unjustly

because, I am a Jew

who prays thrice
times daily for peace
for the whole world.

Sat Feb 10
ashw Feb 17
I can never do the one thing I want the most to do,
I can only - suddenly: fear,
Encroaching shadows.
Blindsided, I wish I could say. But no.
Not quite.
Doubt shrouds my intentions,
Like a cloud blocking out - no, an eclipse,
Predetermined intervals of near complete darkness,
A pattern of uncertainty, a seeming dichotomy-
But reliable nonetheless...
All the same.
Ordered chaos; predictable, unwelcome, regrettable.
Torturous, truly.
Light again, passing by, gone again-
I can never do the one thing I want the most to do.
I can only do the one thing I am wont the most to do.
And I am helpless to it all.
Lost to it all.
It is a cruel discrepancy.
N Pescador Jan 2
i am drowning
should i do this?
can i do this?
i am screaming

i am 24 for god sake
but here i am
still dont know what to do
doubting everything
full of uncertainty

i am 24 years old
and yet here i am
unsure about everything
dont know a single thing about herself
Jellyfish Dec 2023
If you give up on waiting,
the pain of loss will **** you;
If you let go too easily,
you'll drown in queries.
Zywa Nov 2023
Over there: the Ocean,

inside me another one --

Without Lighthouses.
Novel "Lighthousekeeping" (2004, Jeanette Winterson), chapter Two Atlantics

Collection "MistI"
Kris Fireheart Oct 2023
As the curtains,
Begin to close
On my Windowpanes,
Who knows?

I'm so uncertain,
About the way this goes....

And I've been searching,
I've just been searching,
But for whom,
Nobody knows,

Still I'm uncertain,
'Cause there's so many paths,
I don't know where to go,

If life came
With a manual,
I'd have likely had a home,

Maybe family,  
And maybe friends,
And maybe something of
My own...

Perhaps satisfaction,
Or maybe action,
But tonight I
Ride on alone...

Just a lone wolf,
Still uncertain,
Who wonders
When he'll find
A home...
This poem is dedicated to myself and those like me. The wanderers. The hermits.  The wise ones who choose to discard the monotony of society in exchange for the chance to experience true life on their own terms.

This is dedicated to the Tribes, Still out there, living as we should be,  as one and at peace.
--Kris Fireheart,  Wolfpack tribe, second chair.
Laia Blackthorn Oct 2023
How many hands will I hold?
How many will I have to let go?
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