Something incandescent 

You can touch it sometimes 

It’s there. You can feel it.

Like a blank canvas with no inspiration, you can’t find the words to explain.

You look at others. Your like them. You want to be them. You need to be them.

Every thing in your body aches to be like that.

Everything in you life makes sense when you image your life as it.

But they tell you it’s impossible. Or only bad people do this. Or that your not really one of them. Or you can’t be like that. 

Sometimes though it’s you. You hold yourself back. You can’t get yourself to be yourself. 

Like a tadpole to scared to be a frog.

Like a flower to scared to be a seed.

Like a cloud to scared to be rain.

You exist. You love. You feel. You even try. 

People want this person. The one you create. To be the real you. And you try. You try so hard.

Like a green light trying to be red.

Like a camera trying to be a photograph.

Like a letter trying not to be read.

But it’s their. Like the rain falling. The light switches on. The camera takes a photograph.

You can feel this. Here. In your heart. Down in your soul. Telling you. Wishers from a moon. First far away but slowly. Surely. It. Is. Deafening.  

And you try to hide it maybe. You try to makes it a secret. 

Failing.

So hard.

So worth. Your being. Your seeing. Life as you can only continue in a conundrum of being not the you that people think is you.

That little seed. You keep hidden.

You hide.

It begins to bloom. A radiance that slowly shows.

Then one day. 

Your the real you. 

And you think. Why did you ever?

And you remember how impossible it had seemed. 

And you remember you have so far to go.

But your fuvally stepping.

Like the path that speaks your truths. 

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Haze of life

I walk the streets, feeling meek
A cloud above my head
Feeling utterly dead
What was that they said?
I’m not able to hear
Fear, hate, they are dear, to me
The haze of life around them
Their plastic lovesick pup and the leash they are on
At least they could try to see the whips of their barren masters
They are created casters of spells you cannot tell

I walk the streets feeling meek
The haze of these things in the air
I try to show them how things grow
Through the pavement path my children sowed
The path is poisonous though, it suffocates them
I still try
Maybe some hear my song
Sheltered by the tree one stands
She smells different
I see the haze has lifted from her eyes

One of them
The rest of the day goes well
Walking the streets feeling not as meek
Then I come back to where she was
And they, those sprits of plastic
Like a cloak on her back
Trying to re create the haze
She looks at me and sees me
No one has ever seen me for centuries

I tell her I am Jack
I have your back
Now you see
You will be free like me
And then there are two of us
Walking the streets, feeling not as meek
Maybe we will find more soon
My feet are so tired