Aimless Ambling

My heart has been drawn out, like gold into a fine long wire And it is with this that I am bound My slightest move another cut Until again, my whole heart is within me once more.

The true heart of all falls as it will But to rise and fly the heart must be fed and its fuel is jet The soul does not fly from peak to peak But, in the last instant catches despair unaware and soars catches life by the tail and on its strings dives and soars at the whim of the winds.

Everyone has two eyes One half closed dreaming the possible future The other, forever staring back with regret I’ve gouged out that backward eye And in its place a new one grew short sighted dwelling only on now.

The eyes, windows to the soul So rarely reflect what lies beyond It is to often that a beautiful frame surrounds a waste land And the garden is surrounded by thorns.

Tight locked inside am I and my own jailer But who has the key?

This ache that fills me following me, taunting me, daring me to defy it, shouldn’t be allowed to win But I would miss it were it gone (Who then would keep me company?)

To give your life is often thought the greatest gift It’s not Your life is not your own to give of keep Everyone dies Your soul is your only true possession and it is the giving of this that is the greatest gift To whom will you give it Or, will you try to keep it for yourself?

Nothing is what is left when everything’s gone Nothing changes when time stands still Nothing existed before the beginning Nothing stops the unstoppable Nothing fills the emptiness in my heart Nothing is something and when you don’t have much it’s hard to give up even that.

“Are you OK?...” No, I am he who dwells in shadow who exists in constant pain and subtle agony writhing still in strychnine throes Distress trapped by pride The world’s weight upon a single point evokes not even a sigh The frontiers of inner strength so taxed They have no choice but to expand Even space’s black vacuum would overflow with its vastness And responsibility (perceived or true) Keeps all locked inside (that life outside might continue).

It’s a Day’s Work Eyes Windows to the soul are also windows for it Would you dare trade your view for another’s If you think you would consider further With even a single step to the side, the landscape changes To step behind another’s eyes is to view another world In all its glory or all its pain.

Sudden closeness Unexpected, but welcome Dredges up old hopes and memories A possible life, once written off Suddenly seem possible again [...or know and hope] The nearness once as ice solid Now after the moment’s heat, is melted Footing lost, again cast into The abyss.

Inspiration is a bittersweet gift On one hand it is a glimpse at realms beyond the breadth of the possible On the other, it is a curse to be among the few to chance a look at the world beyond your cell That will never be fulfilled.

Who is more deeply cursed The fool, denied reality or The visionary, privy to possibility knowing it will be denied?

A mixed blessing glimpses of the beautiful possibility Hand in hand with the knowledge that it will never be - It may be that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all But it is far, far worse to know that love would be denied you when that love is your greatest wish Than to be blind and deaf oblivious to the world and unaware of the missed chance.

Do you know Pain? The spirit crushed then, by force drawn back out to something that resembles its original dimension Dents, and gentle bulges betray the trauma, only perceived by those near and focused Otherwise overlooked ‘Til after eons The end result cracked and marred Draws forth recollection of the start The pitted, scarred result bearing only passing resemblance to its origin.

Now... Do you miss me when I’m not near Do I invade your thoughts My eyes know you and my heart yearns to Wishes are fickle things (Be careful) Yet now I have them My eyes see only you My arms want only you How long will it last that I am in your thoughts When will the sun set And my heart reflect the empty sky full of only wishes.

It is from narrow cuts that my life drains from me Fine, shallow scars will I have one day but now it is not memory that I have but pain, in parallel rows that won’t let me forget myself.

Respect so acute as to impede movement traps me Caged, I cry out heard only by myself A chest, locked, storing the private truths of others They boil and fume wishing for company.

Words tremble and writhe waiting for release But they know not in what order to come And who would have the gall to tell them Are they not alive themselves and have the right to choose for themselves?

LOOK What is it you see Is it an aura a silhouette a ghost or phantom Or is it life waiting to be found out, stripped of its disguise?