Through the Mirror

At times he would not but dares,
Would look through himself how deep,
Who he is and thinks where he lairs,
Tears and anger aren’t enough to weep,
How shallow a life without chance to dive,
But will take this chance search within,
Give him stars to the mind he calls hive,
Let them fall so high and low as he’s in,
This road so vast and rough no stones to turn,
Would he stop now only to find behind so black?
Nay, he’ll walk a few more miles lest he burn,
Though take heed wisdom that once did he lack,
Then, in the creases of dark stirs a thought,
Hence, even the simplest idea turns to light, Read More

What there is

Observed were these folk who knew to bond,
Is so clever the device that is so fond,
When locked together by not even feet so bare,
Once they travel together, hence they live together,
Indeed was not their minds in bliss never to deter,
This much they knew never show to conform better,
Thus all complex thoughts in them were long erased,
Simple acts that had it in them were gay but phased,
And never did part from their routes to aspire,
How more for time lest cease they respire?
The mornings due but honest wait was long at bay,
In bed each of them their rooms so dark each lay,
Thoughts that start to race ere their minds bestow,
Laughed from times had, what fears locked below,
Like an angel in the dark she walks slow around,
And all happiness is surely but at once a noun,
Sudden faces would twitch and feel then touched,
This fear they locked was the angel unclutched,
All things once they thought they never had,
All the feelings of loneliness once so bad,
At first so vast was their mind another world,
Hurled into great expanses as mountains hurled,
This who they become and they thought was madness,
But surely is not but an angel to show no madness,
That reasons to be alone are reasons for life,
That they shall not stir but confront their strife,
No bigger strife is that against a mind so large,
They’d try for phone and music lest it barge,
At some point they go through roundabouts inside,
They seek a force from the circle of death to budge,
A simple word, or simple act that hurts to lodge,
Then they see themselves in the ire of Solitude,
Who sought themselves no light but long in solace,
Then they learn to accept the darkness in essence,
Then they learn themselves more in presence,
But darkness an all-encompassing drug so potent,
Is wholly the antidote to fulfil ones desires,
Through each moon this thought becomes them,
Through each night they stir closer to mind,
Through each mind lays the blueprint to life.

Echoes through the Night

His thoughts be trailing, no harp is sound;
His thoughts can only stir, ne not so bad,
Nor not so bad is he who walks gently away,
Who walks through night in search of meaning,
Meaning that only he can never just defy,
Who to defy but is slow to change in time,
To change in time means to rise to be better,
To be better is not to revolt in one’s mind,
Better that he walks silent and slow too still,
Too still was that which his heart would stop,
And his heart was clear, how best it may be,
And the answer’s clear, how much he ought to be,
To be seconds that once they were so fine,
So suddenly fallen into minutes a dainty glow,
How wretched it is a man to move mountains,
To move himself better falling over again,
Again he shall rise whether for what it is,
Whether it be pity or not, can never show,
For it can never show what essence is,
The essence of being part of the picture,
The picture of his paradise once he lost,
Once he lost, so shall he remake again,
Once remade, he shall be whole again.

*

But then we cannot live so much,
These feelings are all too much,
My art is too few and so little,
The taste of paint is all too bitter,
The sound of strokes does make me shriek,
The sound of silence does make me think,
Songs long ago I heard now grew faint,
Songs long I sang now are more a faint,
I never sang; only my head would race,
I never did; all was but still in face,
No emotions; no thoughts; and no desires,
No motion; no notions; nor none to aspire,
At last I see a two walking down concrete,
I wish my life were just like concrete,
But as a sponge I gather data absorbed,
And by night I am the data thus absorbed,
A single sound that calls my name to task,
Is the single direction I hear to task I last.

Spartan

But the darkness would not lift,
For it was the black of life that slowly falls,
Though he hears an echo how slow,
A voice so distant could never repeat its words,
How long could he heed the words?
If not by line but by meaning conveyed so well,
A spartan was he who dared to sleep,
Through day and night would he stir and err to fight,
For life thus he fights for death,
Though creases of life can fade but daren’t turn,
Though true is life’s essence to give,
Pleased to see reason and happiness in all ways,
But ere is sought for comfort but gained,
Whatever their lies and ne truth nor morals,
Shall see another fight at bay,
Who can feel the air so cold and hot to bear,
Whence it gestures for hardy action,
Tears their flesh round and heart thus it rends, Read More

Of Yahoos and Humans

From thence he returned with no abode but lay,
Could not utter words at what horror that may,
So much he would foul in disgust that serves,
Sees himself in a mirror where shrieks his nerves,
Henceward casts himself in the dark and forgets,
More he spits at himself and his skin begets,
A figure stood but could not look back in thought,
How, now? could he ever seek himself in thought,
What gesture too divine can seek him clear of woe,
However beautiful is life without presence of woe,
For caused but ere bestowed was he unto others,
Another human is that which he clearly bothers,
Is sought this trail that leads the hunt towards,
His angst so large and far can escape him homewards,
At last he arrives and sees himself through reality,
One amongst the people in a world of bestiality, Read More