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When I and was become mixed,

Your state in my mind becomes fuzzy,

What was blind, 

Becomes clear,

– How did I not see that?

I was so focused on your story,

I forgot my own.

I must let go of these worries, 

You do nothing but hurry, 

Why do all the slights in the world sharpen in the storm? 

What sweetness is contained within the shell, 

I must sit with them for their duration, 

Storms can be enjoyed too,

Your face echoes the horrors of time,

Distance begs to close, 

Combinations with -what- begs, 

Silence and let go, 

It is not our place to fill the vessel, 

If fate were to change, 

And this where to go away,

I will let go, 

I will die well.

Later,

They tell me, 

Later, I say,  

It’ll be better, 

I do not wish to loiter, 

Watching youth’s gate close, 

Surely there’s something profound here, 

In this God given moment,

It can’t just be an future’s hare. 

All this and that feeling, 

This and that choice, 

This and that memory, 

Assaulting me on all fronts, 

My logic, my feeling overwhelmed,

A walk, 

Will cure my ailing health, 

Solitude is the soul’s guide, 

I cannot explain its effect on me, 

Perhaps…

I lack the time, 

The tools, 

The reason? 

No, no, 

It’s beyond my reach, 

We are not meant to understand all, 

There’s limits on everything, 

Find the point of inflection, 

Where God showcases reflection, 

I am alone, 

Yet within myself, 

These absences leave scars, 

These scars contain stories, 

It’s on me to interpret and tell them. 

When Spring grips the Earth, 

Bringing rain and fog to embrace you, 

Make for the lake, 

Consume the silent,

clam,

quietness, 

It’s all around, 

Embrace the meditation of the cold,

The wave’s periodicity; our finite time,

Feel the contrast of change, 

The departing cold, 

The whispers of warmth in the horizon,

Cut your losses,

Pull back your battalions, 

A new frontier is conspiring, 

This time, 

On the soil of the self, 

I was led into the deep,

By the moon,

Now I am burnt, 

I fear for a little while, 

Yet I know to surrender, 

The sun won’t rise for a while, 

And the dark speaks too much, 

Now what? 

I’ve been burnt by false hope, 

I thought the sun was a glance away, 

But it was cloudy,

It is dark and cold now, 

So Stay a while, 

Sit with the pain and transform it into a lesson, 

Find your inner Sun, 

Transform the Night into Day, 

You already know how to turn Day into Night, 

O Wisest One, 

Help me discriminate between causal and coincidences,

Each I write on that thing,

It only rains harder and harder,

On that day,

To mark our union,

It rained it’s hardest yet,

Now the weather changes, 

The Northern wind howls,

Yet the uncaring Southern rain still sustains, 

What is there to gain from this?

I am curious, 

I care not where the wind displaces I,

When I was playing my respects,

Searching for an gift, 

An alien flower showed itself, 

I laid it by her grave, 

We talk here and there, 

Is the matter of that thing too above for me to understand? 

I did what I had to do, 

Not knowing the future, 

I let myself float to it, 

Whatever shall, will be

Do you remember, 

The weighted thigh?

How an instance marked the intertwining?

Fine balance, 

I am waiting to escape this place, 

While I bleed from it all the same, 

What is nobler?

To enjoy these painful moments before they eventually walk away forever, 

Or distract myself from the journey all together?

Do not apologize for losing, 

It is a process of life, 

It is set in the winds of fate and fortune, 

We all go through it, no?

The ground is cold. 

Pick yourself up, 

Gather your senses,

Learn your lessons and continue on, 

For the sharp golden dawn has more to say, 

Some good; some bad!

Aye, O distracted one, spare me a second of your vice!

I am so discontent, 

With your inner light’s diminish, 

It lacks any embodied supplement, 

Please! Strip down and refinish!

Strip down!

Throw it away all,

Bring the world a producing conscious thought!

Not a consuming meaningfulness inaction, 

This harshness is a slap, 

Wake up, wake up, 

It is nearly the sunset, 

Don’t you want to see her dying colours?

Is this the path to take?

Towards the golden gate,

Will I stumble on a rake?

Or fulfill my higher state?

For each eye, 

A separate stake, 

Equivalent in their sky,

Yet differing wake, 

To set down this path, 

Alluring my passion,

Or stay in math,

And further abstraction,

Each way beckons,

As my head hums,

What will I reckon? 

My answer weighs tons, 

I forgive myself, 

For only the future,

May bring such health,

The great inducer, 

There’s this notion, this hint of a feeling,

That language, of any kind, serves no information,

That music, produces no sound,

That brush strokes, hold no weight,

That poetry, shows no beauty,

That praise, has no bounds,

That prayer, holds no answer,

I can only explain it,

 in what it is not,