Law of Life

I who breathes,
breathes among six billion,
who speak vicariously with each other.
Who am I to them?

Those who cannot speak,
speak from within.
Home is within them.
They inherit the Lungs of the Earth.

And who has learned the limits of an individual,
a learned corpus of action and counteraction?
What has begun to invite such an eternal perseveration
inside of the most minimal existence?

He who knows,
knows what is undeterred by particulars and self-fulfilling:
The ancient law of life.

Out to Sea

Have you ever experienced something,
something that carries you to the brink of your self?
Something that almost rips you out of your own skin,
because your soul wants it more than life?

It takes me Out to Sea.
That vast and endless plane.
Timeless, always nascent.

Without even a glimmer of afterthought,
Patterns and images break on waves,
Amalgamated and free.

I cannot single-handedly tame it,
but I can guide ships.
I can teach others to navigate,
To weather storms, to command fleets.

For it is in that stormy sea,
That we are all in the same boat,
And owe each other a terrible loyalty.

Yes, there is something latent
In those peregrinating vessels that seek harbor.
It is my desire to diligently share with them,
the experiences that brought me Out to Sea.

Valtari

To the sound of your name,
I float like a ghost,
Wistfully.
Will sworn to meta-physicality.

Beyond any hill or heap,
I would mount the skies
No sooner than anything.

As you gradually pile among the clouds,
Your heavenly hosts,
Awaiting any chance at glory,
Shine stone-bright and inaudible,
Sacred and remote.

To the sound of your name,
I would march alongside them,
The steady beating of the chest our metronome.

Caged

I have no desire to subvert you
Some days I don't even feel it

I thought I was picking it right,
but it was the wrong lock
There was no lock
I'm locked up in here

Imbued with a mirror image,
I can't get it off my chest
I want to see you better.

If I use a skeleton key,

Then what do you think that makes me?

Frantically forcing the bolt to blow,
I neglected to keep your words in mind.
The shock wasn't exactly innocuous,
it knocked me right out of your head.

With my back against the bars,
I stared into the broken shard of mirror.
As I spoke the words, nothing audible expelled:
"Dead-center in the chest."

The Fly's Savior

A leaf on an oak is the cynosure
That great spire towards the heavens
Breaching.
I sneak clandestine leers against the Sun.
Nature's stare shakes us to our roots
A gentle breeze,
An indifferent maelstrom.

A Distant Cry

These worlds, seen as they lie,
Conditioning the lives of some
And anachronistically challenging others',
Inevitably become finely honed and carefully structured.

It comes like the thief in the night
To lead you to an overwhelming question,
Much like a quixotic dance
Or a Siren's song.

Where are you, o bellwethers
With that irenic equanimity,
Could you be the spark that ignites
With a concupiscent charity?