There are levels of tension
left in shoulders,
put upon by considerate folk
one more burden
is never too much to bear
for the hardened survivor
of minor turmoil–
at handling stress,
we sit in the corner
with pretty smiles fixed
on cracked faces
which cast no reflections
no matter the distance
from the sorry expressions
we each have escaped
If we are made of star stuff,
why are we so small
when held up to the night sky?
We hold the might of planets
in our bones and muscles and skin
–a slightly different composition
but still, here we sit,
wondering where we come from
whenever we are under the moon.
There are secrets in the galaxy
of the future and all it holds
we can only hope to find ourselves
while our eyesight remains so bold.
True happiness does not gloat.
It has neither envy or greed.
True happiness uplifts everyone around.
It wants nothing more than for all to feel content.
True happiness is a conscious effort.
It takes simple acts of kindness to understand the place for sadness.
True happiness is voracious in consuming small hatreds.
It alters the self-loathing we all feel at times, teaching positive vibrations.
True happiness is not obtained by wants or needs.
It can be attained by consistently making considerate motions.
True happiness is not affected by circumstance.
It is meant to be lived as a lifestyle, to be believed in and embraced.
True happiness is not just another out of reach concept.
It is not easy, but it can be accomplished.
I am convinced I know nothing
when asked for specifics.
I appreciate vague ideas I can misconstrue,
so that I might get ahead in a conversation
I have decided is uncomfortable.
I am wary of subjects I am familiar with.
Undue questions are deceiving.
As if my abilities to attend to small details
were an indication of intelligence,
or a supposed lack thereof.
I get no reference to this, that, or the other
despite entertaining ideas I have never cared for.
Unconditionally distraught by inconsistent evidence
brought on by unfocused determinations,
each leading away from the other.
No boundaries to limit new horizons
discovered by the light of the moon
on a night it nearly lost itself
eclipsed by the eternal sun.
There is commitment in adventure
a contract built between the known
giving leeway to the unknown.
Exploration of perspectives
leads to eventual new perceptions
maturing into an inexplicable sense of self.
I never had a key for a locked house,
until I learned to change door knobs myself.
There were broken handles, bent hinges, and holes,
but bungee cords secured insides at night–
unless sneaking hands wouldn’t cease.
Twenty years later, I still fear the dark,
I cannot sleep with doors unlocked,
I run away from the lights I turn off,
a creak in the hall wakes me,
as late-night knocks on windows still break me.
I have been hiding from writing–
Despite all my longing
To hold pen against paper again
For I cannot escape her,
With no room to breathe,
Weighed down by the sea of her tears–
Hot and salt-crusted;
From years of disillusioned stumbling.
My foundation has crumbled away
As my words have fallen flat
And I am struck motionless–
Fear in headlights approaching too quickly.
She has found me
I cannot escape.