Our hands, hand in hand in gesture,
-a prayer pattern as partners.
Hearing hymns of palms held strong,
-faith in fingers friction.
When two or more are gathered,
let what has bonded never break.
Clasp our own, these prayers alone, we make. Applause.
I THINK.
His cross is ours to bear,
we lift it up, and take on his legacy.
Not the legacy of decadent architecture,
-or jewels and fool’s gold,
but for the golden heart.
A peace that no one knows.
His cross hangs up high,
let us be nailed to survive.
Survive, not kingdoms of the mind,
but of the Kingdom deep inside.
His cross brings our Truth.
The darkest of realities,
the rooster in the distance.
Will I deny my responsibility.
His cross is yours to bear.
Surviving, dying there.
Salvation through death for you.
Forgive them, they know not what they do.
I THINK.
I am not the perfect man.
I was not the perfect son.
I will not be the perfect father.
I am nothing–if not yours.
I am imperfectly so.
I THINK.
Once upon a time…..
There was a time when I was better; when the man I was, was better than the man I thought myself to be, and the man you thought me to be, was better than the man I was. There was a time when any ailment brought laughter and happiness. Even the darkest moments were causes to smile, because we had each other. There was a time when love ruled, not we ruled love. There was a time when it was we and us. Now it’s you and I. Me. You. There was a time when you and I didn’t keep track of time. There was a time when me and you had all the time. That was a long time
ago.
Time’s up.
I THINK.
Am I doing the right thing?
I can’t stop thinking.
Uncertainty is my certainty.
I can depend on doubt.
What if I’ve been doing it wrong all along.
All of the signs have come and gone.
Has the moment finally passed?
Thinking it would last, forever.
Whether it’s the weather we weather or trials we unfeather,
pulling us in directions,
North, West, East….wherever…
Taking us to magic lands, never, never.
It might always feel like we belong together.
No dreams or illusions, fairy tales or Prince Charming.
Reality sets in loud, alarming.
Love sets you free, for the jailer and prisoner,
looking for home, but now I’m a visitor.
I THINK.
Never explored. Never discovered. Never uncovered, only suffered.
Fantastic ideas and dreams that bind us,
we wake up reminded of feelings behind us.
Collages of pasts, times we didn’t react, facing the facts that we can’t turn back.
At least not yet.
The distance closes the doors of our closeness.
Being close no more envelopes our motives.
Passive pain ignoring the wound torn open.
The hours pass and memories less vivid, suppress everything, keep it hidden.
Mirroring yourself in your own greatest fiction. Pages were turned, but emotions were ripped then.
Salvation soothes us from a lonely existence,
Apart and different is how we left this.
It ends.
It begins.
I THINK.
All these words, lack the understanding.
All these fears, dictate our courage.
All these memories, forget the moments.
Time passes, stagnantly.
Strength weakens weakness.
Lost in a compass of morals.
Looking to the sun, as it sets behind us.
Taking the road less traveled, in another man’s shoes.
Moving forward, backwards.
Climbing stairs that spiral down.
Empty, with a lot on my mind.
Achieving gains little.
Failure is knowledge.
Let’s fail forever.
Then we’ll have it all.
I THINK.
I’m not going anywhere.
Neither are you.
Before we became one. We were two.
And now we’re back to that root.
The roots that grow rotten fruit.
Individuals, separated by ourselves,
From you, myself.
The bad screams.
The good whispers.
But its roots, are true.
Love shared, love cared.
Love that’s rare.
This battle will be won.
And we will be one.
I THINK.
Poetically, phonetically.
Descriptively, elliptically.
Circular words, for a rectangular heart.
No wonder they don’t fit the shape.
Pour out the letters, like water from a vase,
Words on a page, overflowing the glass,
This page has no space.
Every word, entire languages.
Undue passages, linguistic anguish.
Infinite poems, with infinite fiction,
Emotions still remain underwritten.
What are words to a plane of existence.
When every word you know has been conscripted.
How do you describe an emotion never felt,
Nothing you muster can arrange its sense.
It’s just a gut feeling,
From the caverns of hormones,
Circuit boards of thoughts,
Powerlines of nerves,
Try connecting those dots.
Language divides us,
Prevents us from expressing our cores.
Make up the ways, to say what you feel.
Speech is treacherous.
The heart is the source.
