Life...

Imagine the world and all that it is.
Isn't it amazing that anything exists,
when you think about all the things that come together to make life.
It would be so much easier for there to have been nothing at all.   

...

We're only half way out of the dark,
though our existence is still fundamental to all that is.
If we step out of that repetitive circle,
we can see the day, and there's the light.
Now we can, be.

Second Chance...

Your hand reached across the room, cutting through the air like a soft ribbon. I waited to see if anyone was near before I sat up and leant closer. Your fingers were shaking as the cool night air caressed them, trying to guide you away from me. Each second my hand inched closer to yours until I steadied your tremors with my own, making you warm again. Our fingertips coming together slowly, the pressure of touch was comforting in the dark and lonely quarters. You were soft but I could feel the groves in your hand, a map of your life. I walked your journey with my fingertips but I couldn’t tell where it ended, how you came to be here. Although, I didn’t know that of myself, it doesn’t bare thinking about. Holding your hand, not being able to see your face or your body, I thought at least there is one person left who still has something inside.

I woke up wondering if it was a dream.  

Crimson Light...

In crimson light we don’t see the shadows.

We walk towards the treasure the beauty blinds our eyes.

Interaction pains us, so at night we sleep alone.

We forget what we were waiting for so today we walk alone.

The motion stops us thinking about the voices in our head.

The merry-go-round of life leads us in directions we all dread.

Illusion Fades...

We have the same codes, the same outline, my heart beats like yours.

We are functional for a purpose, but you have left yours behind.

So do we hold the same desires? We do not.

We are brothers, sisters, lovers, friends but your life leaves a hole with me.

And to fill it I will not step closer.

But step out with me, and share this dream.

Remember all that we had when we had nothing.

Hold my hand, walk with me.

Water...

I want to be penetrable, not like water that runs the risk of drowning us and sends wrinkles to your palms which glare out the future, I’d love to read in them; 

I want to be penetrable like an inference made when everything seems lost, everything is broken, a voice in the distance “there’s always now”. I believe it. I’ve believed it since yesterday. 

I begin to finally breathe that fraction slower, calming down to a gentle flow, and then some more, to freeze and break off from the ruin. Though, this is where the real fight begins. 

My neck hasn’t been broken yet but it’s sore and I’m tired.

What has left can’t be followed.

Love Begins in Winter...

         If there is such a thing as marriage, it takes place long before the ceremony, in a car on the way to the airport, 
         or as a grey bedroom churns with the sound of morning, one lover watching the other, or as two strangers 
         stand together in the rain no bus in sight, arms weighed down with shopping bags. You don't know then, 
         but later you realise, that was the moment...

        ... and always without words. Language is like looking at a map of somewhere, love is living there and surviving 
         on the land.  You get to a stage where stories don't matter anymore and the stories once told so passionately
         become a tide that never quite reaches the point of being said. And there is no such thing as fate, but there are 
         no accidents either. I didn't fall in love with you then, I had always loved you, you were always there in my mind, 
         the thought of you like a dream. 

        

        Love is like life, but starts before and continues after, we arrive and depart in the middle. 

                                                                                                                                                                         - Simon Van Booy.

No Bliss in Ignorance...

For me, it's a lot more difficult to be simple than it is to be complex.

Most of the time it's more important for people to feel as though they are popular, liked by strangers, colleagues, that at the end of the day don't mean much, than it is for them to say something or think something different.
Though maybe I think too much, I acknowledge that, but I don't mind because you don't have all this time you were promised. Life can be over in a whisper, and if you do what you don't want to do for long enough you forget who you are really quickly and once you've lost yourself to societal constructs, pressures and possessions your life might as well be over.

Life, what is it?
You wouldn't be able to tell by looking that most people you pass by are alive. Because they don't look like they're alive and they don't act like it.

If I could tell you all that I feel and all that I think in a single moment you wouldn't be able to breathe.
I've just gotten used to it-

The touch of the breeze on my neck as I talk to him, clouds passing in the background in shapes that God creates, each breath mine and his, the feeling of my heart pushing blood around my body, my eyelids heavy with love, eyelashes touching the soft skin just below my brow, moisture drying on my lips, how it calms me to touch my thumb to my baby finger when we talk, the thickness of the air between us, the whole world, the universe and all the planets willing me to step closer.
Then my thoughts on top of that, those are secret.
It's all exhausting that I feel so much and see so many details, notice all the littlest things that to me are the most important. But it's like I'm lost, because no one else sees any of it.
The little messages life leaves behind, beautiful little everyday things that drip from all that surrounds us.

I know how much I feel, particularly for you.
I take a deep breath, and realise at the same time I don't know anything, about the world or what it's about, as though I was just born. All I know is what I feel and that I'm open and seeking to learn as much as I can while I'm here, from whoever is willing to teach me.