who stumbled upon
a pile of rocks
and looked closer than
anyone had before
who found
the first gem
and decided it was valuable

I was suprised to see Robin
appear at the onset of dawn.
Looked on at my withdrawn self,
tucked on my shelf,
whereupon I return his look.

With his wings, he made a gesture
pointing out, out and beyond to
fields in a vesture of green.
Never I had I seen such pastal pastures,
nor known them to be so near.

Robin started to sing
of spontaneous adventure,
away from my miscellaneous thoughts.
Extraneous in nature for they did discouraged
this possible venture.

In an act of defiance,
I went to move, and felt a strain
tightening around my brain.
Denying the laws of science,
the frightening shackels restraining me
and my plumed heart from taking flight.

I struggled against the chain, I wiggled until bruised
and blood and sweat covered my skin.
The sticky heat of desperation consumes me,
wishing someone smuggled the key in
and remove these chaotic chains.

"I can't move," I cried to Robin,
expecting him to disapprove.
"I'm not like you. I can't just go and do what I want,
it doesn't work like that."

Even though I wanted to go.
My soul longs for it, to be like  the Robin
where its only goal is to go
faraway like a bird of prey, flying high
complying to no one, just like Maslow wanted.
The reclamation of self-realization.

Robin did not reply.
Robin did not leave.
Nor did he grieve for me.
He simply waited.

This wasn't a rue.
He was glued to me and thus
Proving the legends true; of how
he got the mark of Christ's blood upon himself.

For he waited in hope
'til the day when I can cleave the chains
and he'll supply the rope
and reeve the opening of my escape.

But that day is not today.

Today's untimely end neared
with the threat of an upset sunset,
warning Robin that he must retreat
to avoid being a prisioner of the dark.

Yet, before he left, he nodded,
as if tell me not to fret.
For he will be back at sunrise
His wise eyes conformed
him to be sans falseness.

And I prayed to empty skies that I was right.

From my spot, I watch Robin's flight,
as night fell with gravity, pushing the sun down
and for a split second it turned to a green jewel.
I smiled like fool at Joule's "last glimpse"
feeling the chains, ever so slightly, loosen.

Falling sick on a journey
Over a field of dried grass

My dream hops away, rustling;
My life slides away, beckoning,

I run away to the beats of the gong.

Despite our sundry transportations, trains and planes,
I don't believe us to really be voyagers;
The years, months, ticks and tocks that come and go in vain,
Like Ulysses at sea, they're the real wanderers.

Doomed to drift on water, timeless, yet growing old,
Aye, never setting anchor, always setting sail
To the end of th'endless river, where lies fool's gold.
That's all the future is; just Melville's ***** whale.

When the boat is languid, we ask it to go faster,
When the boat is lively, we implore it to stop;
The ship capsizes, it had too many masters
But just go with the flow and it'll stay on top.

We couldn't captain a tiny rubber dinghy,
Time's the real pioneer, and we her passengers.

Dark skies.
Possibly rain.
Only one thing on my mind remains.
This view
This life
Me...
How long before it gets old?
Till it grows mold?
Birds chirping.
I see no sun.
Only a book.
Not filled with words of wisdom
Or lyrics of poetry,
But an itinerary.
A schedule to follow.
A routine.
That's what how I live life.
How morbidly boring.

You alone
Ease my mind
Just by the sound of your voice
Nourish my soul
Just by wrapping me in your joy
Replenish my body
When yours is against mine enjoying
The simplicity
Of your skin on my skin
My mind wandering
Into another realm - lost within
The depths of your soul not wanting
To be found
The lost wanderer
Happily lost in paradise.

A friend once told me that all of his inspiration was lost, it was a half past 2.
I wondered how much of himself it would cost to wander a bit, and try something new.
Maybe this is out of the blue, but perhaps we can find inspiration in all of its absence, too.
Inspiration is in me and it's in you.
It's where you sit right now, just enjoying the view.
It's the smiles that graze by you, if only a few.
It's the change in the space that could never be replaced.
A positive embrace that becomes written all over my face.
I told him, "sometimes, we must change our questions and readjust our eyes. And by surprise, the sunset becomes the sunrise."
The difference between a decline and an incline.
The distance between looking forward and falling behind.
Inspiration that is in front of us -
The heart invested trust that sends us a rush that is never undone.
The cold-hearted lust that turns to love under the sun.
Your words are not lost, they have only just begun.
To wander is to observe.
We find inspiration between the fine lines of all the words that we've heard.
I told him that I think we deserve to imagine our world...
To become what you desire to serve.
To see all the lessons learned and unlearned, in the midst of your hurt.
My last words curved, without a slur -
"Stay grounded. There is always inspiration implanted in the dirt."

- L.G.

I close my eyes to fall into the spiral of my twisted mind.
I twirl and dance like a child in your dreams,
picking flowers from your garden of mystery.
I lay in a field of grass and see the clouds mold to the shape of my spine.
My imagination flies.
These white clouds in the sky resemble the purest doves,
roaming free as they flew by.
Staring into the abyss, beauty looked into my eyes and i saw and part of you and I.
The infinite possibilities of the infinite...
I remain here, my body surrendering to what is bigger than I.
I put my hands firmly around the neck of the universe, but I'm the only one that chokes.
The answers form in the mind of reason and rhyme
and spill out of the back of my throat.
The cosmos live inside this abstract mind.
In time, I will become as light as the doves that fly.
Levitate beyond the division line that separates your heart and mine.
What is the combination to the lock that closes our minds?
I wandered.
The answer ran through my veins under this tree of wonder.

I opened my eyes, and there was only thunder.

-L.G.