Living in a world WITHIN the dilapidated walls of this world,
they roam through the darkness on the very streets only
angels and demons dare to tread.

Yet to these bottom dwellers, those very streets, they call HOME.
Under the shadow of night they live...they breed...they draw
blood, when they must, as a means of survival.

They scatter to the four winds at the break of day, though a few
stragglers you'll often see...getting in the way of the busy,
bustling life, there on those streets.

Streets filled with incessant traffic, deafening noise, blaring voices
and most of all...the self-centered masses that too often miss
the trees for the forest.

Once upon a time they had names, and faces, an identity; an
essential, accountable part of this upper world, abuzz with
energy and notoriously fast pace.

Now, they are merely the bottom dwellers, discarded, forgotten,
living in holes, caves, under the very bridges through which
the 'great mass' travels; living in cardboard boxes, nursing
decayed hearts, broken spirits, greeted with scorn, spit, sarcasm
and contempt...as they attempt to, often, travel back up top and
reconnect.

They paint our fast food doorways and ATM's with quiet, desperate
humility, loss and justified anger, while every worldly possession
(the ones they haven't had stolen, or been stabbed for) they
carry like broken treasure in a shopping cart.

This 'great mass' looks upon them as outcasts, too lazy, just crazy,
society's shame...but oh how lame, since 'they' could always be...
you...and me.


by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

As I walked one day, deep in thought and tasks to be completed, I caught a glimpse
of a wonder that affected my thinking.

There she was, a fragile miracle in between rocks and two slabs of concrete.
Even in the midst of such cold surroundings, she held her head up proudly to the sun
and opened her arms, as if in quiet challenge to the world around her...as if to say
she's here, she's survived the violence of stomping feet, she's survived the harsh
elements and yet sprung forth and managed to shine in a place most others would've
simply withered away....and died.

Her beauty shone through, even in the depth of rocks and two slabs of concrete.
She knew her time was limited, but she also knew that while she had life,
the BEAUTY she was meant to be would emanate...for all to see.

And for me, that turbulent day, she was a smile from God; she was my miracle,
my hope, a small wonder that affected my thinking.




-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights

This love
overwhelms
short circuits my system.

Unsure how to deal,
all such new ground.

What are the rules?
How does this end?
What goes in between?

Do not trust…
so says my head.

Please…try…maybe,
says my heart.

I am a rose.
Soft petals,
subtle scent,
but get too close,
hold too tight,
and you might bleed.

Perhaps more a
Venus fly trap.
Interesting, odd,
hybrid colors,
but
keep your distance,
at arms length,
pray for safety.

All It ever knew,
all it ever learned was…
observe,
don’t let’em too close,
always retreat,
and, if they reach out
to touch…
chomp down,
liquefy,
destroy!

Your love overwhelms,
short circuits
my system.

Creates new paths,
opens doors unseen,
wraps the heart
in silk and velvet,
tenderly held
in a special place,
away from
unwanted storms,
aimed at maiming
and destruction.

Nerves grow,
reaching out
to new ground,
sprouting words and
images never
known before.

Not sure what
to make of it.

I hear again
the whispered exchange
between mind
and heart.

Mind asks,
“Can you…
should you…
trust?
What have you
learned in eons
passed?”



Heart replies,
“We can smile,
wide, bright.
A smile that reaches
the eyes,
and we can try,
can’t we…maybe…
please?”

This time
we will try.

This time,
the heart wins.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights