#0125 - We will dance

through fires,
and frostbite;
‘neath sunlight
and starlight.

We will leave footsteps
—pellucid relics
of spirits lifted high
and worries hung to dry.

There’ll be paths where we’ve been:
Waltzes in the frost of snow,
Polka ‘pon the coals of fire,
Charleston in the sands of time.

The world will tell
a simple tale:
Entranced,
we danced.

And everyone will wonder
how, in darkness immured,
we laughed in the night
as we kept our sights centred
on the light of our gaze
and our endless embrace.

#0124 - Drawing Board

{Prompt: "Back to the Drawing Board," from Poetry Riot! on Tumblr}

“Back to the drawing board?”

No: the drawing never stopped,
and the board is in my back pock-
-et. Don’t imply that I fell into
this with a printed
plan and a presumption of surety.
I’d like to think I’m a step closer, surely,
or have at least kept from falling be-
-hind,

          but don’t assume of me
that even a color-coded spiderweb,
three layers deep, of connec-
-tions and free-associations
could allow me to ascertain
what the hell I can expect
from this, or any, aspect
                of spontaneity.

#0123 - "My bed without you"

A little too cold,
a little too small,
a little too quiet,
a little too empty.

No one to steal the covers,
No one to steal the pillows,
No one to approach,
No one to accompany.

Nothing but inanimate covers
laying like forgotten rags.
Nothing but inanimate cushions—
fabric instead of skin.

That's my bed without you.

But I'll think of your company
and maybe you'll think of mine:
I'll make do for the night,
'til we're again side by side.

#0122 - The Non-Pains of Solitude

Solitude?
Sure.
But not sullen isolation.

Moments between moments,
when the mind is free to wander,
when I divine to take a gander
at this little pause in time,

here I think
of long-past memories
and evolving realities
and revolving thoughts:
breathing and living
and observed from each corner.

Should I be lonely?
separated from 7.5 billion people
by only a hair’s width in the span of the universe
and spew out appeals
to other lonely hearts reveling in lyric and verse?
Should I be wary?
gaze at ubiquitous verdure
as a diaphanous armour
against the world of unknown
to which I’ve been born?
Apoplectic?
at hate and injustice
when the reality is:
in the world there’s more peace
than there ever has been?

As the pessimistic news rolls through the television,
I remind myself of one important omission:
that for every act of violence or hate in the world,
a million happy occasions have also occurred.

As I hear of pain and sadness and loneliness
I remind myself that these disconsolate voices
arise only because they’re no longer obstructed
by labour, survival, and the novelty of action.

Lift your spirits my friends, and don’t be afraid
of a world seemingly filled with multifarious pain.
What you feel is not strange: many others have felt it.
You just have the freedom and time to think and evolve it
and the freedom and time to create change and effect it.