No one look for the trees,
a daily death is all it takes.
Wet and injust:
a steady breeze,
a falling rain.
Death is a daily necessity,
an intrinsic long-term solution to the problem of life.

But is mine necessary today?

The events lay ahead,
far beyond me.
This physical state:
A pyrotechnic display
of the life found
In my heart.

Today is not the day.

The love to comprehend
the feelings that answer to us,
Is all encompassing,
all unseeing.

Bow to the spirit of the rain,
the steady breeze.
And each day
he may be God,
he may be me;
When a future insecurity
comes ripe;

when the daily necessity,
the intrinsic long-term solution
to the problem of me, comes ripe.

No beauty in age,
just in the pyrotechnic heart
that you can see.

And that is truly me.

I’d never imagined this:
A life so filled, so stark…

What’s amiss?

That’s a question I ask and never answer.

The answer would scare me, I know.
The answer would set me free.
But I remain scared of that freedom, that answer.

I’m scared of me.

It’s a daunting thing, life.
I’ve accepted it, but have not yet come to terms with it.
I know not who I really can become,
afraid of the freedom that knowledge would afford.

But nothing is as it seems.
I’m really living this dream
Not knowing what or how or when,
Not caring for anything that I haven’t held.

I’ll go on, alright,
another day,
another night,
to follow on until a time, when
unable then to comprehend,
I’ll meet that inevitible end
I’ve thus far eluded.

Who do I kid?

When that time comes I won’t be ready,
won’t be any more than what I am now:
A living testament to how
one can drift through one’s own reality,
Never daring to come to terms with being free.

Never daring to be me.

As I hand back the kids the time is sparsely gone
when the things I’d learned to love, and the things I’d left behind
where the things from which I’d come, to redeem and reform my world
the things I’d left for some time now to live the life I had.

I didn’t know it then, but I do not feel it now.
I cannot comprehend what it is I must live down
The things I hadn’t given up and farewelled over and again
I’d never release the patterns of frustrating harmony

In nothing more of wisdom, nothing more of fame
it is for which I live right now
the piousness had ground
to halt and free and release the mind from the relics of this game.

I don’t speak it now, and nor do I know the truth.
I cannot dare to bear it now, it’s just not good enough,
but this is all I have to go on, this is all I’ve got,
I will not speak, nor dare it be the one that’s good enough.