Stumble

Laying in the grass,

my head on your belly,

I gaze at the sky.

We talk about what

it means to be

fully alive.

I don't want to merely glide

through conventional motions,

I say as I watch a heart-shaped

cloud pass by.

I want to stumble on a

path that is my own,

then rise, slightly bruised,

but better.  

This Is It

I cull from my memory

the experiences of my youth.

The happiness, the playfulness, the joy-

all that belongs to the fortunate child.

A stark contrast to my adolescence-

the sheer black of bleak depression,

the restless bouts of anxiety,

physical pain radiating through muscles,

lethargy only the damned can know.

We may not know what the future holds,

but sometimes there is an inkling

that things may never change,

never develop into goodness,

never evolve into grace.

Despair

My life is a ripe grape gone sour.

Pain, malaise, bitterness, envy.

Conditions of the damned.

Sent to Hell before my time,

I am bitter, hardened, seasoned.

Nearly alone in the struggle,

the fight to be understood, loved,

cured of my damnation.

“Help me” I say,

sometimes loud, raging with desperation,

sometimes soft as a powdery whisper.

Can anyone help? Or is it too late?

Condemned to go on ad infinitum,

I heartily despair.

Martyr

If the world needed me to,

I would plant my tired heart in

the moist, delicate earth

and watch grow from that sacred spot

apples, honeysuckle, and hope.

Origins

I am not of this minuscule beacon of life and destruction.
No, I am not of
this Earth.

I come from the place where angels and demons conspire,
where both joys and sorrows engulf the being,
and purple and green nebulae swirl in patterns
too complex for even the greatest of earthly minds.

No, I am not of
this Earth,
I come from
a galaxy unknown.

I long for the tropics...

the light scent of the salty sea
the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the pristine shore
the occasional squawk of a parrot
the soothing breeze
the comforting warmth of the bright yellow sun
placating, hypnotizing the mind

Tapio

I sit here,
in brilliant solitude,
amongst the strong evergreens.

Snow has fallen.
The air is crisp.
The sky heavy and gray.

There is silence abound,
save for the charming sounds of nature-
a bird calling, a deer sprinting, a squirrel leaping.

The winter forest is
beauty, peace, joy.