I’m pouring, I’m souring, but they say I’m boring.
I’m living, I’m loving, but they say I’m faking.
I’m trying, but they just say I’m crying.
I’m thriving, I’m rising, but to them I’m just starving.
I’m healing, I’m feeling, but they just say I’m still dealing.
I’m writing, I’m fighting, but they say I am just cynical.
I’m carving, I’m devouring, but to them I’m just copy-and-pasting.
I’m being true to myself, but they say I’m hiding, I’m deceiving.
I’m raw, I’m blunt, I’m what I am to them, I’m rude and shrewd.
I’m embracing, I’m evolving —
am I becoming what I feared?

She asked me
If I had ever been
In love

Then I
Realized that I
Had never not been
In love

I realized
I  wanted
Nothing  
Other than love

I think there is
Only one
Off-ramp
From the journey
Of love

That off-ramp
Is judgment

A critical heart
Combined with
A critical eye
Fills one with
The opposite
Of love—judgment

Judgment colors
The mind with
Negativity

Until the sin of
Judgment
Is displaced
By a lust
For love,
One will not find peace

When love invades
One’s heart
The body finds peace

When love is abundant
And bountiful
There is no fear
Of wasting love
Nor spilling love
For love can grow
Anywhere

So am I
In love?

Yes, I am
In love
Excessively
Wastefully and Willingly

Everywhere I look
and see,
there is judgement.
On every face,
smile,
grin,
pair of eyes,
there is judgement.
In every push,
every word
and written note
or media post,
there is judgement.

And I ask,
"why?"
to the light within my heart,
but a different voice answers--
one of hatred,
and evil.
It told me of a tree
that offered good and evil,
and that evil has since cursed the hearts of many
and lives inside us all.

But I knew, that the shadows had not cursed me yet,
for I held the virtues in my heart,
like a shield against the blasphemy.

So I looked to the walls.
Cement and brick stacked up and up,
was my joy.
For on the walls were signs of color,
and love
and acceptance.
On the walls hung pictures,
of tremendous feats made
by the most intelligent of men--
inspiration that waited for me every day.
And they were solid,
static,
always offering me a glimpse into what could have been,
if good had slayed the evil,
and opened up our souls.

But every day I notice cracks
in the brick,
and melting of cement,
I knew Satan held the upper hand.
He was in every room,
every thought,
and every judgement.

But why should I care?
The walls shall not collapse
while I still roam these halls,

there is still hope for me.

If Satan lurks by judgment's guise,
slowly tearing down the light,
I will be in happiness--

For what have I to worry?
I say, "Let the curse spread!"
Let it tear the world apart,

In 500 years or so,
judgment will be no more

and I will have had the walls to myself.

There is time for me,
but for the future none will be left,

and the walls will crumble.

The dystopian regime
will reign soon,
but when my bones have already turned to dust.

I can hold on and pray,
for the future ones to weep on the ground--
facing eternal judgment,
in the fire that burns below.

The walls will crumble,

But by then the skies will have welcomed me,

and with the angles by my side

I will enjoy the last laugh.

There is a face in the mist,
One that belongs not to me,
And it stares into my eyes,
Knowingly.
Tell me what you know!
For what have you come?
Why do you reach across the mists,
And stare?