I’ve been sprinting through this life, caught in a whirlwind of urgency and strife, weaving through congested streets just to reach the sanctuary of home.
Trying to keep grinding, though my destination is unknown.
The grind never ceases; I push forward until exhaustion grips me.
Yet, I rise again, for stopping is not an option.
Barely making ends meet, where is my antitoxin?
I pour every ounce of my being into this life, striving to carve out a place for myself.
Trying to tell myself that my dreams will someday be taken off their self-imposed shelf.
I’m stumbling, balancing precariously on this tightrope of ambition.
Don’t falter; don’t gaze down.
The drop won’t seem so daunting if you don’t mind the sound.
Gasping for air, I gather my strength to face it all once more.
I crave tranquility, peace of mind.
Struggling through the chaos, it’s hard to find the time.
I need to be my own anchor, be my own best friend.
After all, that’s all we possess in the end.
Suddenly, in the chaos of it all, a voice like an angel pierces the veil of the struggle.
Tears flow, my silent release from the weight of this existence, a small reward for all of my persistence.
The music begins, its melody enveloping me completely, every note hanging in the air so sweetly.
All my pain is unlocked, and my soul breathes a bit, and for a moment, there is nothing but the moment of this song.
A moment in time I stole from this heavy world, all of my resistance…silently unfurled.
-Rhia Clay

Somewhere, promises fell apart,
Somewhere else, a new vow starts.
Someone's heart is making gains,
While someone else is counting pain.

You've found comfort in someone new,
Yeah... I think I always knew.
Your city's crowded, your time too tight,
No space for even a moment’s goodbye.

Why does the world never stand still?
Why does it always go against your will?
I'm at the verge of losing my sight,
Yet I see you there shining bright.

I see you standing there,
Facing the world alone here,
So strong, like you don’t even care,
While I still break with every stare.

My final day is here,
The sky will be bright as ever,
But my dream isn't here,
My life is lost in this player.

Waning light
How it holds a special place
Glow over these everglades
Fireflies flicker in flight
Strobing stars twinkling from afar
We were always chasing.

Perhaps it was all the same: the predictable certainty of the steps, like the aged footprints of old loves, which the ocean once drew in the sand. The past shattered shards of glass into smithereens. The weighty mass of scoldings, curse words, and nasty words can no longer be satisfaction or a legitimate retaliatory strike towards the sure redemptive forgiveness; because deep down in the confused, wounded Soul, the flower *** is already rattling into tiny pieces again, and there is no more worldly, massive glue that could fit more than a million pieces together.

Well, this is how Everything is formed; the cherishing, caressing voice of the Beloved no longer calls out from the echoing silence. Silence with an intermittent rhythm walks its rhythmless tightrope dances, because the kettle drum rhythm of the waning waves of the present also beats in the deaf ears. Why is it that every moment believed to be eternal has an unpredictable end and is hyperactive and restless?!

- The ever-drifting event of Nirvana-nothing seems to culminate crystal clear in the present minutes. The wolf-howl is accumulating in the manner of mini-atomic bombs ready to explode in the throats of screaming, ready-to-climb, ready-to-dive wolves. The clustered fear stretches to the shoulders, just like the Cassandra-scented ominousness.

Many-stringed screams hang, then ripen with a luscious, juicy pleasure, like a bunch or two of nectar-rich grapes. The massive-solid prison walls surrounding a person are increasingly hopeless, there is absolutely no escape from them.

Fire

There is a fire inside my soul,  
with flames dancing beneath my skin, casting shadows against my cheeks.  
I feel my spirit rise after enduring so much.  
I sense the fire lingering, along with the sun and the life springing forth from my lungs.  
And you, God, you draw me into your depths, reminding me of who I am,  
and that I am not finished yet.  
This world has tried to bury me with its furious fists and powerful hands,  
and yet, here I stand.

-Rhia Clay