Words are floating in the air like
Dragonflies in summer.
They reflect on placid waters
Only ruffled by the silver fins of tiny fish.
They dangle ripe and tantalizing
From the brambles growing by the train tracks.
They soar and cartwheel in the azure sky.

Words are lurking in the shadowed places
In the forests of emotion, and the dells
Where sunshine is a seldom visitor.
They tumble like a child’s balloon
Down waterfalls of jubilation.
They pounce like kittens from the top of cabinets.
They curl up in a mother’s lap.

Words can be illusive as a chimera
So difficult to capture in a pen,
And once ensconced, impossible to lure back out.
Words are currency to purchase immortality -
To bargain with the vicissitudes of life
And bandage wounds of disappointment.
They build a wall and often hide behind it.

Words are letters rearranged a million times.
The songs of living, loving, laughing life.
They can be the voice of brilliant minds,
The moans of breaking hearts and souls,
The sigh that sounds the same in every tongue,
The cry to God when all else fails,
The one true tool that separates us from the Apes.
ljm

We sat there drinking baring are souls and cutting through ******* one drink at a time.

I never hung around other writers I wasn't  a people person to begin with.
Silence was its own company .
And a man who could hold court with it and remain sane was stronger than most in a crowded room.

We poured the drinks and spoke of everything aside from the page.
To generals seldom give away secrets to there success or in are case the lack there of it.

Are scars were are own and my friend knew enough that we simply held court and stared  at a woman bent over the jukebox.

Some lines are not written but are simply perfect enough as is.

We sat there till we closed the place down and vanished back to are own worlds .

We were wolves to the hunt all the same and are paths seldom crossed again.

Sometimes you howl into the night and somewhere from the depths the night howls back.

Sometimes its good to know another runs the same as me.

As once you saw the man
an illusion of what does stand today.

You cannot fight the tide it will take you away no matter your efforts,
as easily as it did I.

The tide is not there for you to fight
It is in it's nature to devour you whole
What you are missing is your anchor
That very small part of your soul
That piece of you inside the storm
That whispers in the night
I know you are drifting away from me
but I'm strong enough to fight
I'll fight the tide to keep you here
Just bobbing along the shore
I'll fight against the tides of might
So you don't fight no more

I once saw a horse run free
along a lonely stretch of beach
It's hooves continually flicked free
the waters that corralled it's feet

Many sunsets and storms cast dunes
broke are the barriers now
none stand ever so true .

We are all alone from where we view the horses running along the shore.

All this beauty that runs, we are no longer part of this picturesque scene anymore.

I can't bear these thoughts
the pain is too soon
the soul dreams seem an illusion.

We ran till that point from which we began
We became a blur and everything in between.

Much like us, everything
just fell in between the cracks of life and regret, I have tasted it's wine bitter sorrows to be broken in every sense.

All those horses see the truths we so easily mask to ourselves.

Trampled like innocent hearts under hooves.
The foot prints are simply a reminder, running off into that endless sunset .

I know this speaks of goodbye.

And I wish only to be blind to it all
As in love I was once as free as the horses
who in my minds eternal thought
run as freely now as your heart is
Erasing me as the ocean does the imprint left behind.

If you've been here before you know the tone
That I took four years ago when I began posting poems
It's a tone and topic I'd thought I'd finally grown past
I am dishearted and disappointed when I once again ask:

Why am I alive?
I see no purpose, no joy, no fun in life.
What am I doing here?
Why didn't I end it long before this year?

I am tired. I am impossibly tired and I will be tired impossibly longer
I am done. I want it to end. I am ready to end. I have grown no stronger.
I am still as weak as the child with a knife and far too much strife to stay
I am little more than I was, with the addition of love that wears on me every day.

Why am I alive?
I am no longer despondent when I ponder this.
Why do I exist?
I can't be bothered to breathe with this emptiness.

This will be my last poem for some time, I can't bear to read through my own thoughts.
This will be my existence for more time, I can't make happiness from what is not.
Thank you for reading and commenting and being the sweet people of a poetry site.
I will be here, in a day or a year, to regale you with more of my thoughts of life.

She is evolving, has evolved, evolves right now
She sunk lower than before and soared straight up from the ground
She is who she was but she is also someone never before seen
She is and was evolving towards bigger, higher things.

She may land harshly and come to a gruesome, quick end
But the flight has always mattered more than the descent.
She may soar higher until her wings incinerate to dust
But she will evolve whether down on land or up.

She is evolving, call it a lifelong effort to transform
She's been becoming who she'll be since the day she was born.
She'll put in her all whether she receives failure or success
And she will evolve until she until she finally takes her rest.