Time.

in the end

maybe i just miss us.

all of us. the way things used to be.

simple times. finger-painted dreams.

crying over spilled milk and broken Barbie dolls.

model train sets. remote controlled cars.

the perimeters of our world cut from

paper-heart valentines and the pages of TeenBeat magazine.

maybe i don't like change very much

maybe i just don't like this change

maybe, in the end, i just want what i can't have:

Time

to catch up

with all this growing up

all of us have had to do.

the road

You may not know this now. You may not want to believe me. But it doesn't matter where you're going. Where you're headed, or in which direction you may drift. It only matters that you are moving. That you are trying. That you still walk on. And that, no matter what, you always will.

the compass

I lost my way today.

All it took was that splitsecondinstant when you held out the sun, gingerly, in the tips of your fingers, and offered it to me. You fumbled and nearly dropped it, but in that moment, the Light was so blinding I had to blink a few times to clear my eyes. When I could see again, I found that I had strayed a long way from the path, and the sun was back in the sky. But you were gone, and the Darkness was cold and empty.

I'm not afraid of the Dark.

I'll go back.

I'll find you.

in the waiting room

alone is not lonely

sometimes the silence is warm and loud

and solitude is sought out, treasured.

clouds don't always mean rain

meet me here oneday?

the silence of there

we sometimes think maybe words can fix us

voices. sounds.

the melody of a penny-whistle
the staccato of crickets, filling up the night
the way these eleven tongues fuse lives in silent song
the minaret's echo as it chimes throughout the land.

but the more we listen, the more we're sure:
words can't fix this. fix us.
words can only fill up space
and distract us from the truth.

what we need now is quiet
the silence of there
that contains more in its ounce of emptiness
than this cup, even when it overflows

cardiopulmonary resuscitation

So he pulled out a brush and washed a streak of colour across the sky. And in a dark corner, deeply buried, a sad heart caught its light and slowly (thump-thump) began to revive. It grew stronger, and turned tentatively back to face the world; hesitant, delicately fragile, but no longer monochromatic.

Goodbye Neverwhere

From afar, your walls will be smooth and your streets will be calm. No brightness in your lights; no base left in your beat. Those sharp edges will soften, eroded by time and space. Until one day, I will forget you. Like you so easily let go of me. Until that day when this life is nothing more than a pretty picture I used to hang on my wall.

strength

You'll get back up.
You'll hold on.
You'll stand tall.

You'll find it. And you'll overcome. Because when you know, you know.

the imperfections

In the proverbial pod, sameness prevails.
In the proverbial pod, sameness prevails.

(But if you're lucky, you'll find a pod that's not a proverb, and a pea that isn't perfect. And then you won't need the pod anymore.)

In the proverbial pod, sameness prevails.

light up

you try so hard to find the light. searching the Globe for what you think you need to see. gathering up stray melting candles and flickering fluorescent bulbs. holding onto them as they slowly fuse out and fade away. but enlightenment can't be borrowed. and it can't be caged away. you'll find the switch when you're ready. but maybe the first step is learning how to change a globe.