A self preferred
I consider myself
Cursed
And yet somehow beyond lucky
To be
This self of mine
Because
When it comes down to it
Noone
Else
Who I've wither seen or met
Would be more enjoyable to be
That who I am in this moment
For in these words
And realizations
I am surely free
Me
The nature of breath
Breathing out a plan
Is fun
And nice
And easy as can be
(A breath)
If and only if
Your lungs aren't exhausted
From a treacherous marathon
Of a run
Of a day
It is easy
No?
The giver, her
A process for me
Will be letting you
And occasionally even asking you
To take care
And care for
And be cared for
This me
For he is a he
Who is not used to such love
Such trust
And such dependability
Yup
Saria
Mystic minds
Show me a dream
And I'll show you childhood
Show me your childhood
And I'll show you a dream
Of one sort or another
Always
Puddles
Can you see it
That memory clear as day
I can
Just a surely as rain
Settles down and sits
In these puddling ways
And with reflecting means
Always come to an end
With each following day
And yet
That is what
Makes its all the more special
When a reflective pool as such
Can stay for a second day
And with such a gleaming gleaming smile
Be alive as such
Dispite its impermanence
With no chamce to survive
Or thrive
Still
In stillness
It shines
This is the second day puddles way
Unbroken, unbreaking, self
Taking time for self
Is like telling an ice diver
Not to not breathe
Or to prepare for the plunge
Or to not grow old
As a result of cold
Hue hue, good luck
The ends
The nature of a human way
Is to do such a something
Almost fully
Until one day
With far less than half a heart
The distant beat dies
And suddenly with new life
We begin again elsewhere
And the old way is left
In dusty storm gutters
And abandoned symphony halls
To echo in memory
And then with an end
It suddenly does
All around is nothing and something
Everywhere you go
You see someone else's vision
Even God's by means of the windup trees
And the rolling rocks in the untimbered forests
Everywhere you look
You are bombarded by these
And they are not yours
And they are not free
Nothing is
Inevitable fires
Can you truly prepare
For a house to burn
For a tree to fall
For a calendar month without days to end
For a night to be dark
For a season to be unimaginably long
Can you try
Sure you must
Can you see
Not by any means nearly enough
But you will
As you can
And yet you can't
And that's the saddest thing of all
True Neutral
Somedays you cannot
See me in a crowd at all
For I am normal
And lost
And free
Ane noone now
And yet other days
Like today
I stand out like a thumb
And peer out like a hawk
And look down like a cloud
Far from normal I shout
Into nothingness fall
My silence near
The most addicting thing
We hate and fear
And want and need
Push away and hold dear
Is this
Is you
My silence
My near
A tired drifter across the room
A man
In his latter years
Oriented properly
Does not want pity
Or charity
Or anything as such
Equally unkind in his own mind
But a friend who cares
Enough to not up and walk away
But to see the true state of things
This
Is a gift beyond all measure and kind
Life is neither season nor song
It's so funny
How we humans think
That being alive is somehow
The next thing
The next trip or fall
The next season or song
When really all we have is God and time
And only one of those is a timeless gift
If chosen then both
Can be a blessing to find
And then? What?
Find a mate, and then what?
Get the raise at your job, and then what?
Build a home alive, and then what?
Fully transform your mind, and then what?
Cut your hair to style, and then what?
Burry a loved one who died, and then what?
Raise a child alive, and then what?
Dedicate your whole life, and then what?
So you've won, passed some time -
And then?
Where hope resides
No matter how the feel
Or strong the rise
Or sharp the edge of the wave
Or speed of the receding tide
Regardless of this
All of these
Are things in bloodflow
Or around at least
Are alive
And fun
And full of rushing
And yet
Fun is not what presides
In the heart of all
That instead
Would be hope and where it resides