"Work hard" they said,
Push yourself to the limit;
"Go higher" their voices played,
Even when you've already reached the summit...

Have you hiked a multiple tiered waterfall?
The higher you go, the less people there are...
The scenes get more magnificent,
the cascading falls are more pristine...
But you've got to put in the work,
Hike, climb, crawl and you'll get there.

But once you get really high,
Past all the rest of the people,
You'd realise the best tier,
Might be back where you came from.

All that hard climbing,
And at the top...
There might be no view,
No falls,
Yes there is quiet
and the sound of the gentle bubbling river source.
But you've left the absolute best behind.

Just because you can push the limits,
Doesn't mean you have to.
Grasp the moment,
Enjoy the fruits of your labour,
Lest you lose them forever...
Learn when to stop.

Wherever I stay,

the trees from home keep growing --


growing in my heart.

He pretended he wasn't there,
When he looked intently at me,
Staying immobile statue-like,
Feinting to be part of the tree;

For several seconds he froze,
No single movement did he make,
The squirrel could have been sculptured,
from wood or clay just like a fake;

Slowly I threw him a walnut,
And suddenly he came alive,
Grabbing the nut and scrambling off,
I had no time to count to five.

This life is bitter; dearly to me—as only a moment
is sweet. My eyes deafen defeat, defending it's right
to channel violence with peace.

There's a war inside of me!

A looming shadow is every brick, every corner, every
tiny echo of the walls. Of my room, my mind, heart and
unfortunate life. Fortunes of which are counted in Heaven.
A golden castle —I'd trade every brick on earth.
Trading my life away of this unsettled grief.

No one ached when I died
On a dusty August morning in the swelter of the sun
They buried me in blue jeans and my coffin had a crack
A chip along the edges matched the blood along the tracks

Family preceded me; there was no one left to cry
But a single solemn woman, hidden in the back
Shed a single shiny tear; and only one to be exact

No waterfalls or bowing heads, no crowd to see me go
No burning candle vigils and no midnight serenade
I marched the gates of life and death, alone but unafraid

No one ached when I died
No questions or suspicions from the folks around the town
There were no weeping faces or a grand old death parade
Just a digger and a preacher; lowered slowly in the grave

I'm afraid of dawn.
I wish the night will last longer than usual.
The darkness is the best part of me.