DA VINCI'S GHOST

( for my little brother Brian )

I listen to
classical guitar in the dark

with only a single
candle for company.

These my teenage years.

Music and flame
travel through my mind

unveiling thought.

Da Vinci's
Vitruvian man

pinned to the wall
with most pins missing.

He comes alive
in the candle's flicker.

Gets into a flap
each time the door opens.

Little brother is spooked
by that Vitruvian stare

but is fascinated by the fact
that he exists

within a circle
within a square.

Like a priest I
dress my self in the garb

of Leonardo's words.

"Write what the soul is.

Illustrate whence comes....madness.
Whence...tears.
Whence...dreams!"

The whences make him wince.

As he sees it:  "...it is like a man
travelling through time

in his dream machine
and arriving at his own

dying
becoming his own

ghost."

Our mother's voice
calls him

and he is grateful to escape
his own thought.

*

Now, here I am
at your death

as you step inside
the circle
(inside the square).

You stare back at me
with that Vitruvian stare

and I " try to write
what the soul is."

She walks like heat before the summer's storm

With waves of motion
that envy the oceans

She speaks in flocks of rising birds in unison

Leaving little to wonder
in the commotion of perfection

Her absorption of all internal leaves you exhausted but forgiven

For her meekness has inherited my world

And I who was once last will be a first in her heart

Listen . . . the thunder rolls announcing the coming of summer rain

And she walks like heat before the summer's storm

Poets are a common breed,
they're a dime a dozen;
my uncle was a poet,
as was my second cousin.

Some are mad romantics
some are crazy, like a loon;
they write at all the odd hours,
morning, night, and noon.

The good ones leave you gasping,
at each turn of phrase;
you envy their technique,
strive to learn their ways.

The bad ones leave you laughing,
as they offer empty blithering;
you tend to scratch your head,
is there such a word as glibbering?

But, bless them all for trying,
to say what's on their minds;
it only goes to show you
it takes all different kinds!

Things that nobody talks about:
The desperation of loving someone who doesn't love you
How the sun feels warmer when you've spent a year being cold
The feeling of weightlessness after crying yourself to sleep
When he stares long and hard at you and smiles softly, making your eyes feel shy even when you are not
How people who used to exist in your orbit still take chunks off of your surface, even when you've taken so many hits you hardly exist.

Things that nobody talks about:
Even when you've moved on, even when you've found someone who loves you more, even when you've discovered better things, your skin remembers things best forgotten.

I hope you're okay. I hope you love what you're doing right now. I hope that you always make art. Not the stereotypical art of drawing, painting, sculpting, etc. but the art of drowning yourself in science or mathematics, the art of letting go of negativity, the art of breaking the rules, the art of reaching nirvana, the art of letting yourself get lost in the moment or just about anything that is considered art (if it's not but you love it and it makes you feel good, call it art). I hope that when you do something, you do it for yourself first. I hope that when you write about love you're thinking about yourself. I hope that when someone asks you to list down the things you love, you write your name first. I hope that when you find yourself crying, you look at yourself in the mirror and realize that tears don't suit your face. I hope that you always eat on time and don't forget about drinking water. I hope you read lots and lots of books. I hope you're always thinking about the world and its people and how it's still beautiful despite of the happenings right now. I hope you learn to say "no" to people when you need to and be firm about it. I hope you're happy and contented with your life. I hope that when you're in a dark dark place, you're not afraid to call your mom or your dad or even a friend to tell them what's going on (believe me, you can trust them to understand your place right now and never leave you). I hope that when you see people passing by, you see their story first before their faces. I hope that when you make something beautiful, you learn how to destroy it to make something more beautiful. I hope that every day is the best day of your life. Finally, I hope that you receive the warmest hugs, kisses and love from the people that matter to you and loves you back unconditionally.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "For what it's worth: it's never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start over." So live your life with an open mind and an open heart and when the going gets tough, take a moment to rest but don't ever give up. You can do anything. You're here to do it.

With hopes to see you living life to the fullest,
Sam