It crawls and disappears
Like the ghost of spring,
Whose presence can be felt in the sneeze,
It appears
But it can't be seen.
It grows and expands.
It is polluted.
If you give in, it will pollute your mind
And leave behind
Fragments of the cranium
That once encompassed your grey matter.
It could shatter
The dreams that inhibit your imagination
Or corrupt them into nightmares
That could live in your head rent free.
Like an apparition,
It will haunt you,
Trick you,
Torment you,
Taunt you.
Only if you give in.

So,

Reject the fate
The one it shows you
The one that teaches you hate
And fills your heart
With fear, resentment and fury.
Reject this vile apparition
That corrupts your imagination,
This ghost of Spring
Who can't be seen
Dancing with chaos
Inside your mind
Only to leave fragments of dreams
Shattered behind.

So, cut its roots
Let it bleed through its branches
The chaos inside your mind will halt
Save your dreams
And when the Ghost of Spring screams
In pain
And in agony

Reject it.
Reject the fate
It shows you
The one that teaches you hate
And fills your heart
With fear, resentment and fury.

Has it been days already
Confined within my mind
Lost the will to fight myself
My soul to me unkind

The cave of solitude closes me
I've lost myself inside
I want the world to look and see
The bruises that I hide

Unbending to your advances
And yet I hide and cry
I wish you'd break this cave of mine
I wish the tears would dry

Tired rays creep in toward these
Through cracks I want to close
Barely reaching through and yet
It doesn't cure my woes

I want to love and yet am scared
That you will leave my side
So I don't say hi passing by
Alone afloat this tide

Just when I summon will and grit
To hold you by the hand
And show to you my cave of fears
So you may understand

A wave of memories crashes through
Defenses I have built
A voice warns me to never dare
Disturb my ugly guilt

And so I say without a care,
When you ask me how I've been
It's been a peaceful Night my dear
Like one I've never seen.

I glance up and see hovering
one moment, darting elsewhere
then back, a haphazard discovering
of the next right place aloft to be
totally unaware of me and my delight
at such an unexpected sight!
Iridescently graceful. The sunlight on its wings sufficient magic for  such effortless
flight.

At once I sense the slight shift in my perspective: that reality distorted by my ceaseless resurgent recollection and rampant speculation both articulating each next moment.

I struggle with the illusion of free will; supposing mastery of the calculus of human destiny; when all I truly do is engage in all variety of fight or flight; or suppose that God might barter faith for favor.

How human to imagine my mind sufficient to know the next right place aloft to be when in fact I could never know what choice of mine might influence me to lift my eyes to see a red dragonfly!

Is it a mere insect? A mere bug all a flutter? Or does it bode good fortune and vitality or is it a harbinger of death and transformation? It could matter, and secretly I wish it to transform my fate, making me special, gobsmacked by the hint of the mysterious and sublime.

But it's not that. Not really. It's no more than the intersection of gratitude and faith - the former arising from the moment past and the latter from the unknowable moment next.

cl - 2022

The choice you have made

is the heart of the matter:


your free will, acting.

I'm afraid that if I die

People wont know things only I know

Like how N likes their carrots

Or how L loves her dad

Only I know this, like this

Of course others know some of this too, some of the time

But no one

Not one single person knows that you

You two

Are perfect

I mean this literally

I was gifted this knowledge when you were born

I know this viscerally, like this.

Or that you're beautiful in ways that make me hate words

In ways that render language hollow, meaningless, obscene

I am not being dramatic.

And also that you are good

By which I mean loveable

Like very and always

Fundamentally, inherently

This is not something you can ever change even though you'll probably try

And you might convince other people

Maybe even your dad, or your therapist, or your lover, or yourself

But you'll never convince me

I don't know why

I just know this

And I need you to know this too

21/11/3

the grass on the hill
speaks nothing until
our ears open with age
and the demons dark will
loses meaning

the soft melody
of piece sends a thrill
to the harbor of will
and causes a self
into being

action a skill learned
from birth to grave
we pay not attention
to continous pain
and we travel

All my magic spells

come from knowledge, study and --


lots of willpower.

i want a spring bonsai tree
possess it as own
shape it to controlling will

The fence isn’t intended for sitting.
Why hesitate to choose a side?
It’s only just a hop this way or the other.
The fence – claiming a no-man’s wasteland.
Still, you can’t stay for so long
or you end up perched right there
again, and again. The foliage appears
so green and vibrant on that side.
And yet, on this side, it feels altogether more real.
If you hop down here or there,
still, you’re in the yard; still,
you’re playing and making a choice to live.
But the fence? I see
there's a watching, but where is the living?
Where is your truth?
Fences only define edges,
they can’t create truth.