can we begin with the end?
i mean, they always say
starting is the hardest part,
its all dominos after that;
i beg to differ, says i
starting is easy,
it's the end that gets me
wondering what to do,
terrified of love
running for all the wrong
reasons, unsure of you
and i, and the origins of
this universe, and the horizon,
and a world in the curve of my eye;
a parallel one, no doubt,
far beyond this crude image,
but not without opportunity,
a chance at rebirth in the fiery
nucleus of life, that
celestial forge where
life sprung headlong
out of white-hot flames
onto a fresh page of parchment,
writ into every line
stretching to the horizon
greedily devouring skies
of a better hue than this,
this blue hue that burns anew,
searing the depths with light,
reaching towards birth,
towards iris, and hope.
water cobbler
water is a sure sign that life is pure
and perfection is possible,
that you and i are not right,
and that words mean nothing.
letters cobbled together in
meaningful orders
only demonstrate the
shallowness of human emotions,
and the way wind always
seems to sting me
like silence.
celestial rendezvous
sometimes i stare at the moon,
shrouded in darkness,
cryptic, elliptic, like you
and the way it always seems to
disappear without a trace
with the first rays of sun,
-into the sky to dance
with celestial goddesses.
until eternity
tongue-tied
you and i,
wide-eyed,
staring at the sky;
leaving you breathless,
holding up the horizon
with your smile,
leaving me speechless,
only to marvel at
your eyes, sparkling
in the moonlight.
thanks for looking, there are a few more on my
webpage if you're desperately in need of a fix.