A cruel master
the ticking clock
So much potential
Get it done!
I rush past shadows
crumple the pages
failed attempts
mounting
What of dreams?
Of life’s destiny?
How I worship
at the altar of should
Even with positivity
fantastical notions fall short
I argue against uncertainty
meet only disapproval
There is no magic
no pre-destined fame
just dust gathering
The dead are unimpressed.
(Image my own)
There’s a river runs between us,
you and I.
Our thoughts, like tears, are liquid
carried effortlessly by the current.
But you and I,
we stand on the banks, oblivious;
ignoring the connection,
proudly touting our individualism.
Still the river flows,
and all you’ve suffered,
and all I’ve suffered,
or dreamed, or imagined, or hoped,
flows with it.
Step into the water with me,
feel our connection,
do not be afraid.
for it is sacred.
Wade deeper and know
you are not alone
for I am here
in this river
that runs between us.
(Image my own)
Like an orphaned tree
shivering in a coat of frost
my soul wanders
dreamless, alone
a nobody, nowhere
in the pre-dawn chill.
Beckoned by first light
body twisting wakens
Consciousness clings
to desolate slumber
then, reluctantly
reality brings me home.
(Image my own)
Indomitable
the ghost
that haunts me
cat-like ferocity
shredding pragmatism
I tear at the veil
obscuring source
Dream goddess
shaking complacency
Primal wisdom
waking up.
(Image my own)
Are we awake
barely breathing?
Mounting raucous
shattering sensibility
Hatred building
rights withering
Who will survive?
I, chirps
the solo bloom
Timid-voiced
overlooked
radiant in her fragility
confident
Breathe
(Art my own)
