Pay attention.

Pay attention to this moment;
To the sounds, to the lights,
To the colors in the the sky.

Pay attention to your thoughts;
To the world inside you,
And the way it guides you.

Pay attention to your feelings;
To the joy and the tears,
To the hopes and the fears.

Pay attention to your heart;
To the way that it beats,
To the rhythm it keeps.

Pay attention to your life...

The future already happened,
You're just learning the story.

Accept it. Let it run through you.

Let Love overfill your heart,
Let Light overglow your soul,
Let Hope overrule your fear,
Let New overtake the old.

This is your life;
You're doing your best.
Decide that today
Will outshine the rest.

I do not know you.
But I love you.
And if you really pay attention,
You'll feel it, too.

I paced
I paced the entire apartment
I hadn't really felt anything.
And i worried
maybe the nothingness meant something
Like the way a nod can mean something from across the bar
Or the way a quick glance can tell the whole entire story
Or the way a text message vibrates in you pocket
Maybe the nothingness meant I had cried every tear I ever had
Or maybe it didn't
Or maybe it meant I couldn't busy myself with emotion
Like a bird to its nest
I couldn't occupy my time with tears
Maybe it meant the sound of my laughter was more important.
It was more important than kisses on the forehead
And a date to the party
Maybe it was more important than photo ops and family dinners
Maybe smiling now spoke 5,000 more words
Then any tears that had fallen then
Because freedom melts in my mouth
Because laughing rinses away tired memories
Like water hose to ***** paws
Like bees to there busy hive
My happiness pursued me
It romanced me
It took me out to fancy dinners
And dressed my face up with a smile
Maybe my happiness was my nothingness
And maybe I finally deserved it.

You are

the Doctor,

flying through time and space

in your little blue box

that's not-so-little

on the inside.

You've had many friends-

companions-

over the course

of your adventures

but

something always

goes wrong

and

they leave you,

or you

leave them.

And there are

gaps of time

when you are

alone and

it eats you up

because

in the silence

you can hear

your memories clamoring,

shouting for your attention

and you do not

want to hear them.

So you

continue on,

running from your past

though you always

tell yourself

you aren't

and some days

you believe it.

But the truth

is always there

lurking

in the back of your mind

like a hungry

predator.

So you keep running

and tell yourself you aren't,

because

admitting you are

is the first step

to facing

your deepest fears

and staring in the face

all your mistakes,

all the times you've been wrong

all the faces you've lost

all the wrongs you've done

and you are afraid

that they will swallow you whole

if you try.

So you don't.

Today while I was at work,
an elderly couple came through my line.
Their faces were heavily wrinkled,
aged over time.

The man greeted me kindly,
asking for paper and plastic.
His voice was rough, raspy, and weak,
and most certainly unenthusiastic.

As I bagged his groceries,
I watched as he talked with his wife.
The woman he had to chosen to be with,
for the rest of his life.

Once we were done ringing up his food,
he reached out to pay.
His hand trembled when he extended it,
as I continued to survey.

"Debit?" he quivered with uncertainty,
as the cashier kindly took his card.
"Just confirm and sign right there." she said,
as he concentrated very hard.

Bent over slightly, eyes squinted,
he shakily signed his name.
A receipt printed, and was handed to him,
"Alright, have a great day."

I turned to the man and his wife,
and smiled as they smiled back at me.
"Thanks kid, don't work too hard!",
he said to me gleefully.

I nodded and smiled as they slowly waddled away,
and headed out the door.
I watched as they left, out of my sight, and thought,
there has to be more.

There has to be more to this measly life,
than just what I can see.
There has to be more to this pathetic life,
which means nothing to me.

The thought of death, it scares me so,
and leaves me shaking in fear.
My mind is clouded, thoughts a blur,
nothing seems to be clear.

The thought that someday when I'm old,
I'll wake up and think to myself,
"Welp, this is the end of the line,"
is really something else.

Because to be quite honest, I don't want to have to think,
"this is the final stretch."
I would rather not have to confront,
such an evil as death.

I don't want to face a wrinkled face,
brittle bones and a deteriorated mind.
I don't want to grow old, or die alone,
or face the powerful Father Time.

But then I remember what I saw today,
and it makes me realize how I will survive.
The man had a love, his wife, his soul mate,
which kept him alive all along.

So I will face my wrinkled face,
and I will face brittle bones.
I will face my deteriorating mind,
and I won't face them alone.

I will love you all my life,
and I will make you my wife.
And we will fight Father Time,
together, side by side.

and some wonder, why I am amazed
when I look up at the night sky and
see a blackness that extends far beyond
what we can ever reach, and even farther
beyond what I can possibly imagine.

some wonder, why it can bring me to tears
when I think of all that we can and will do
and still see so many, never even beginning.

it’s no mystery, why I am amazed,
at all that is and all that can be, and
do not wonder why I stare at the night,
frozen in awe at the beauty of it all.

there is nothing left to say
everyone is speaking
gets louder everyday
a din of cell phones blaring
ads harassing to the soul
where went our truthful daring
all is stripped to twice produce
what’s then ten times over-tolled
clichés were born of meaning
but, oh, what great vigilance
note how keen the public eye
one thought of valor seeming
and the marrow is ****** dry

the straw children run and play
their ring around the rosies
but burn the field of posies
for television tells us
today, roses are more chic
and love has lost its justice
romance is just hide and seek
affairs come in litany
for want holds no salience
in lands of great industry
good girls know no prominence
past the throned celebrity

and god is a silent place
where everything is said
like symphonies of poets
softly writing in their heads

Sometimes, as I lie in bed
I awake to the screaming
Of some tortured soul
Lamenting his current existence
In the ruin of hopes
In the ruined city of man

Sometimes I even awake
From the seductive dream
That this misanthropic howl
Is not my own heart
Yearning to sing its sorrow
In the way given to man