The carrier

There is a maker of the knife who designs the instrument,
& the sculptor skilled at carving
But what molds the heart depends on neither,
For it is not the heartbreak that determines its shape.

But the will of its carrier.
Whose spirit to mend and strengthen
The musculature of his heart-
He gently seizes his organ to rest between his palms
Recognizing it as his own, his purpose and virtue

I bookmark my thoughts to read them again,
For reading reminds me of what I once felt.

Mind-tied

There are some stories,
No many how many times they replay so vividly in my head,
I will never find the words to capture such experiences.
As if my mind has tied itself up with my tongue.

Mail

You trust the mail man to carry letters,
but you don’t believe the words that escape my mind
I’d cardboard box every memory
& wrap them with ribbons
To tell you I miss you.

Who cut the power lines,
That we lost the electricity running through our veins?
Crowded thoughts flooding my mind
Like overflowing papers in a letterbox
& I’m spilling confessions
Wanting to see you again.

Cafeteria

I’ve got my earphones blasting Matt Nathanson, 

staring out the frozen cold-
City I’ve called home
& watching seven leaves, dried to crisp

clinging to desperation
On branches
In mid January frost

It is as if they are afraid to let go,
And a part of me feels for them
They fear drifting into the wind-
Uncertain of destiny’s choreography.

& I feel for them,
For they are like me.

Call Love.

I knew love by His name,
But what are letters rearranged
Compared to His knowledge
& depth of what beats within my veins

There is no point second-guessing fate.

The enemy

Untangling a rope in darkness is more satisfying,
Such test refines the self,
In a manner much more than the presence of light can define.
Darkness is not always the enemy, sometimes light is.

Sew my dignity to patches

Loyalty is weaved
through the fabric of the uniform.
But like the needle that pricks,
Its existence tarnishes perfection-
For some loyalties leave a hole.

Actors are merely players

Life wears a hat
And displays many shows;
Tricks and acts.

Life is a comedian,
A dancer, and a dramatist....

Beyond the stage-
Life goes on
To surprise me.

Snoozy

Dawn over me,
Sunkissed my skin
My orange juice sits too sweetly
But morning breath fogs
& heavy eye bags beneath
Begging to cover my lids.

Philosophy

Melancholy makes philosophers out of some of us,
& philosophy makes fools out of others
But society 'progresses' because of fools.
Only, progress is subjectively defined.

In love.

If love is a quarry, you fall into it once. To experience the adrenaline, thrill, and air that whisk, brushing into the side of your cheeks. As you fall. Your heart stops. Then race. To start back again.

Until you reach the bottom.

The fall happens once. Then the thrill, some will continue to seek for. As you swim into the pool of coldness, seeking adrenaline again. Sinking deeper into the waters, simply to feel the heart stopping for a minute. In a superficial frenzy of chaos. To seek the 'fall' again.

But surface desperately
and gasp for air.

When in fact, the true challenge remains to stay afloat. & many remains so. Drifting into such calmness, embracing the water in its totality and accepting...finding bliss.

But others swim to the edge, back to land and reality
to hike another cliff and seek for the fall again.