Expanses of sky
Open up to
Opportunity—
Where will the wind
Take me?
Can I sail on the current
Of air and smoke
To a place where I
Can start anew?
Can I wander on the ether
To a world that is understanding
Of the hustle and bustle
And ever happening of life,
And a place that will bring me
Empathy
In a world that is filled with
Void?
I daydream
On the airplane,
30,000 feet
Above the reality
Of a world where I am known
As a number
Rather than a name

This morning the plains are shrouded in a thick fog
and here I am right in the middle of it
drifting all around
looking for a buoy, a light, a sight or sound
so I’ll know I am somewhere
and not nowhere.  

I wonder how many of us
are in their own foggy world
if the planet has little patches
hovering over our species
each of us wandering -
sometimes with great determination -
looking for a place, trying to see
somewhere firm in the shrouded sea
a place calm and silent to be
just for a minute or two or three.

Inspired by Michael of HelloPoetry.com and his poem, Nirvana.

I miss you, every time I breathe.

Origin

How do I find the pathway to origin?
I have searched all the pasts of the past,
and held onto the past longer than necessity.

I have seen an awakening turn into a darkening
of clouds,  as breeze sharpens with each gust
and this brain yields to... what?

Nothing.

In the distance I see a reflection. It is
emerging to me,  and waves into a
silhouette of shapes and confusion. Who is this? Is it bravery I see? Or just imagination.

Help me!

Help me?

Do you even hear me?

Do you even listen to a fool such as me?
What God worth following would answer
the wretched of the world. Me,  and me,  and... I. And I alone have abandoned the
God within myself..

I had a mercenary as a muse. I think she
left and seduced a better writer.

© Wanderer

Too fond am I of the heavenly bodies that hold their distance between themselves and I
If I could reach them would my yearning for them cease to exist
and my thoughts of halcyon days would no longer be
Remaining with a vestigial flicker of what could have been
If I had let curiosity rove further than allowed
But the scope could not be settled standing on peaks
and the spectre of reverie would remain the same

someday, years from now
when you are waiting for her to come home
and your mind drifts to thoughts of me
and you like to think that I'm wandering aimlessly
drawing maps out of the past hoping they'll lead you back to me
you should know I've found a new resting place in the stability of someone else
I show him every scar and the stories behind them
and he smothers them in a kindness that cleanses every record of you
I left your memories with my shoes at his doorstep
and I stopped missing you when he welcomed the parts of me
I always had to hide from you

There are moments when inside you is so wintery cold,
your night's secret is flipped over by the death's perfume,
you are in a turn, at one last intersection, but you're old,
wanting to **** the sadness, to let life once more bloom.

There are moments when you are so full of desire,
your destiny seems so cruel and you don't have the will
to heal your dark thoughts, the gloomy fears are on fire
but the cross, you have to carry it on your shoulders. Still.

Moments in which you spice up with nothings your existence,
you're satisfied with dead souls, with the remaining crumbs,
you run to the silence of the crying willow tree, for assistance,
you look at the mad fire from heaven... life hurts, death comes.

Moments when you're in front of the execution squad
without having one more chance to one last discussion,
you think that life is a mask worn in Venice, that it's a fraud,
the sky seems like a wallpaper of demons in combustion.

There are also moments when you want to start over,
to turn the book of anxiety into a beautifully painted panel,
you decide to meet your shadows in the valley of a loner,
thirsty for air, for life, you decide to change the channel.