Bittersweetness is burning
Holes into my throat like an instrument
Attempting to give purpose to this
Air that I am breathing in

But noise without melody is chaos
There is no direction, no beat
There is no sheet music to follow along to
And sometimes I just need to breathe

This life is brutal and beautiful
A weaving together of joy and sorrow
Made up of perpetual deaths
Today's finality is the birth of tomorrow

But I want to walk the world with open arms
Let all emotions fully wash over me
And when the waves inevitably block my vision
I'll know it's only moments before I can see again

I've cut open my eyes
And to my surprise,
I found an old carousel projector
With millions of upsidedown pictures inside.

The machine starts to whir,
And my life flashes by,
Every memory frame by frame,
On these convenient little slides

Every laugh, and every smile
Every absence of joy,
Those slides seem to last longer on this carousel of poise.

Real freedom
are intrinsically linked
to the freedom
of a bird of prey.

I am lost in the rain,
and the rain is lost in me.

Behold the object

Remember the spirit

In medias res:
In between
non-present times
which are unseen.

In consciousness,
the past's dense
the future's vacuous-
intents.

It's matter out the airlock toward
balance moves the clock forward.

There are times when you feel like
reaching out..............full length,
to grasp -
the ultimate;
something, which you will not like
to dispense away with
no matter who leaves or alights.

Somewhere, from where you will never waver
again -
an Equilibrium.

But most of the times, the best you can do
is to swish your hand and latch on to;
thin, slippery, lukewarm air, vanishing as a wraith
into a starless, roiled chasm......
and you are viciously abandoned
amidst the pungent whiffs
of the random metropolis.

Every night I lean against the rusted gate
of this modest rented apartment
and give a fish eye to the stillborn night.

I see a lean column of smoke from a smokeshaft
...obscure...far off;
reaching out......for the stars
cruelly dispersed by grimy draft.

I see the flickering, pale beam;
the solitary, asocial gleam
of the municipal  lamp;
reaching out meekly....towards me,
getting devoured in a frenzy
by the soft, persistent charge
of the relentless molecules of dark.

✽

And loneliness becomes admissible....
.....again

Not the stillness
but the never-ending motion
not on the head of a pin
but in base of the broad basin
not a perfect evenness
but the wealth of variance

Not two opposing pebbles
laid on a lever atop a pivot
not a balance
more
like a train car
arriving at the station
where people board and disembark
while their total never changes

Similarly
not good opposing evil
not black and white
or self against the other
more
the summation of the ins and outs
of all that simultaneously occur
when nothing ever happens