No One Stays

My biggest fear is to become art. I hang on a blank museum wall. I hang there for all to see. I hang as dead as a leaf. My colors shining through the blankness of the halls, admired by them all. Praised by men of taste. Misunderstood by most. An expression of my souls creation. But they all pass. They praise. They take notes. They leave on their way. No one stays.

Jaded

Jaded is the song I sing. I tried so long to let the resonance of my soul guide me through this life unknown. The battle wounds are deep. The scars are there to be seen. I try to keep the peace but all my pieces fall as I am proven wrong. Jaded is the song I sing. I see too much of good sit silently misunderstood. The games all played with brutal aims. The games all played with no aim. Jaded sounds a lot like this. A silence I cant quite ignore. A way for my brain to pick apart like a vulture whats left of my heart.

Forward

Why the concern? The feeling of drowning in the fear. With no real logic but what has past. What will i do with all this weight. I seek it as i seek my way through the pathway of the years. I fear. I doubt. I contemplate events not of this time. Forward. What do you see? Me? Am i there? Next to your beat.

Sleep

I must go to sleep. My mind wakes me far too much. Too much soul. Too much heat. What good is restlessness? All will be where it will be. Control is something non existent, in our thoughts with far too much persistence.

The Leaf

This wheel keeps turning and all we try is to hold on to something ever changing. We seek to keep it all in place to hold on to our future and our past. You can build a house of leaves, but its just a seasons thing, and the winds will sing. Don't chase those leaves my friend. I hope you love them while they are there, you cherish them and hold them dear,but when the winds call and they must disappear find yourself wishing a safe journey in the sky, trusting that they have the right to fly.

The Novel

I want to feel. I want to be wrapped inside another’s story, like a novel, a long novel that will take me years to comprehend. The novel of a life, a character, of a joy and pain. I want to be beside him and appreciate him like art, the complexities, the questions, the ever lasting soul beneath his chest. I want to fill the holes inside his heart, and be the shining light when darkness settles. I want to be a rock, a friend, a person far too irreplaceable to forget. Is this my fear that I will be forgotten? In ways it is. I forget far too many people, maybe this is my karmic fate. But I know that I want that. And as I am right now wrapped in my novel, and its beauty and complexities fill me, I yearn to share it with someone other than the silence of this room and the page inside this book.

Bare

Sometimes I wish the world would see me bare. Like winter trees. You would see right straight through my skin and bones to the core of all I hold dear. I would stand there with my feet like roots, unaffected by judgement. A tree is perfect you see, based on its aspiration to seek the sunlight with its branches extending towards the sky. I wish you all could see me bare as the winter trees. You would see all I aim for is light. I would hold on to where I stand while the winds rock my body,but I will steadily with my branches find the light.

Spring

When spring comes it never asks it just walks In where you last left off. The flowering, the growth. Never yielding to whether you want it or not. Every life has its seasons. I wish my life would resemble spring internally. Even with the shattering cold of the winter. The brutal heat of the summer. The way autumn leaves you bare, shedding away your pride like leafs from a tree. I choose spring in my heart and soul. You can't resist the seasons they always change,but my spring stays strong through all these days.

My Heart Beats

My heart beats.

Is it always the same beat? Or do I hold a drummer boy inside my breast.  Playing the music of my soul. The music carried to my veins.  Sometimes he plays the blues. They travel through. And leave the essence of disappointment in my blood. Is it ever gone? Can something touch you and leave you unchanged? Is disappointment a disease carried by my veins?