I am young but once.
I am not thoughtless, reckless.
I will not regret,
So I cannot leave this unsaid.
***
Time has me on a leash:
He leads me in circles,
Hoping I'll become dizzy,
Believing I am in charge.
***
What does it look like?
Feel like?
Why do you need me
To tell you about your world?
Are you so impressionable,
Swayed by my words?
If I told you it was the ocean–
The desert–
Would you see waves and sandy dunes,
Instead of the curl of the paper's edge?
***
Real innocence,
Shared laughter,
Happy dreams:
You speak of these things
As if they are gone,
Fled from your life and your thoughts,
Only to return
When memories are dredged . . .
Are you so far gone
That you only sometimes
Recall the good of the past?
Have you none to expect,
To greet in the present?
***
Is this real to you
Or is it rehearsed, constant
Till you believe it?
***
You have so many words to say–
Wanting so desperately to be heard,
You drown yourself in nonsense.
Don't you realize the power in silence?
The eloquence of brevity?
The cosmos was sculpted–
Breathed into existence–
In mere sentences.
***
It's like giving up:
Betraying the magic,
That unassuming sparkle,
Which you once found
Glimmering
Deep within the mundane.
***
Regret–
Comprised of pride,
Drenched in control,
Stinking of fear . . .
Utterly lacking in
Self-awareness.
***
Thoughts become actions–
Follow through from the feelings–
So what is the point,
Really?
***
Life is for the longest haul,
Our futures must be built.
Yet a day full up of choices
Can lead to virtues spilt.
It's hardly named as rashness
When the actions that are made
Are daily picked and used again,
Despite the shining's fade.
And yet, even so, you know
There's something to be said
About the way we rush and run
To put each day to bed.
Our decisions do ever linger on,
Though night is close at hand.
The years are too unkind to those
Who'd make their lives as bland.
To live underwhelmed is truly that:
A reckless waste of time.
Why even now, my day's half spent,
In writing this worthless rhyme.
***
Who says our firsts are always
Lovely, lucky, light?
Can't we wallow in our darkness–
Lonely, lazy, listless . . .
Can't we be real?
***
We fill sinks with galaxies,
Send them swirling
Down the drain,
And in moments we dispose of it–
Our so-called magic.
All whilst ignoring
The ever fading beauty
That can be gained with a single step:
Out of doors and under the heavens,
Made especially for our wonder.
We trivialize and attempt to compress
What was created to be vast,
Limitless.
And we do the same to our stars.