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he could not be compared.
he was lovely.
he was drowning in faithfulness.
he was what i thought i dreamed of.
problem is, though;
while i was busy falling in love, i
unknowingly built the walls of my life parallel to his own
and now these walls are deteriorating,
these walls are crumbling and *****,
and mostly because
there’s no windows for me to see out –
i have no idea what could possibly lie
behind them,
amongst them,
with them,
without them.
he offers to install windows,
he offers to break these walls down
with his own bare hands,
he offers to join me in
finding out what i wish
to see beyond these barriors.
but i don't wish for him
to come with,
i wish instead
to leave him inside.
i wish to leave him
altogether.
i wish i didn't wish so.
i wish i didn't have to go.
but i do.
i do.
Rebecca Hartel Feb 2011
Darkness surrounds us
Swallows us whole
Taking our lives, and tearing our souls

Trying to escape
But the barriors wont break
Scared to death we go hand in hand
Off to some kind of sadness filled land

So clouded we can't breathe
So crowded we can't leave
Seperated we become
Everything becomes one

Light appears overhead
I wonder if I'm dead
I look around
But you're nowhere to be found

I close my eyes
And tears stream down.
Jay earnest Jun 2017
this eastern european chick always sqauts next to me in an alley

at like 12:03 at night when i'm smoking a ciggarette
and it always makes me uncomfortable

but they have no familiarity with american spacial barriors or common neuroses.

and i'll say something like ''
hey''

and she'll nod and say something back in
polish but proceed to stare at her phone.

and i edge away about 2 inches
and she'll scoot ever closer.

and she doesn't find me attractive because i dress in a black poncho and wear an eyepatch with spikes on it.

then i'll flick the **** away and stomp it in the dirt and she keeps scooting closer
and closer

and closer

and closer
to something
until she
dissapears completely in the shadow that overhangs the streetway littered with bums

and fresh cut lemongrass

while wolfs howl in the rolling hills
The two become one, Thoughts and words in a rhythemical display of Love.
Even in our fallen state, we can ascend to heights through the power of Love, for Love is a power unto itself. If we seek to transform the world, our eyes must look beyond the veil, and our hands and hearts must become the very instruments of a "Love Supreme" like John Coltrane, our humanity towards one another is a music that reaches into the Throne room of The Heavens.

From our Eyes, below to that which is above, may our words and actions reignite the forged fires of the Soul. Let the words of our mouth Spiritually be of medicinal use to "The Soul of The World".
It is our charge to keep, and a calling that we all must answer at some point in our lives to provoke change in the powerful name of Love.

There is a greatness in beyond the chaos we see. No longer do have to accept that our fate is that of hate, despair, and disrepair. The human spirit was not forged with complacency, but a tenacious expectancy with a hope breaks down barriors like the "Wall of Jericho" and the Berlin Wall.

We are the Hands of God. And via the hope filled lines of poetry, we can write into history a New Genesis. With the consensus that the human condition is made well by the infallible touch of the heart.
It is my fervrent prayer that we remember Love like the air we breathe, and we extend Grace and Mercy one to the other forming a bond that is not easily shattered by divisions that corrupt our spiritual eye sight. There is nothing greater than the Lazarus affect of a resurrected Love.

A Love Untold, yet Unfolding in the symmetrical lines of poetry. From my mind, heart and hand, may we see through each others Eyes that a Life of Love is Sublime.

Kevin Mitchell..

— The End —