I AM

The hand of the child that held the wrinkly old,
the emotion that believed they could cross the road, I-

What got you through the screams and mocking laughter
when you blurred out their voices and
the sound that echoed in your head instead.
They laughed but I-

What didn't have a voice, a form and a face,
But what had melody, beauty and grace.
What held you through the storm,
What calmed your chaos; I-

The one who told you what the monsters were feeling and
the one who made you forgive them.
What you gave them despite of what they gave to you- I am.

The force that brought you back when they thought you quit;
lifted you up when they said you'd fallen;
Rose you back to life when they thought you -

I am what you don't realize is only within you.
I am what you chose to speak when you were trembling;
I am what shut the thoughts that were boiling
And urged you to stay silent, I -

Had you smile when you were suffering.
Made you cry when you were pretending. I am
what told you that kindness is your only friend.
I am why you will love in the face of deceit;
Win in the face of defeat. I-

The muscle that would lower your humble head
when you rise up above the dirt that made you.
Your heavy shoes that will weigh you down
when you are at the top of the world. I-

The hand you would extend still
to your monsters when you've risen.
I am what will keep your feet moving forward and
your eyes never closing
To never lose sight of that dream!

I am the dream of light that you're living for and
I am why it's going to come true.
I am what you see in the eyes of those who will never see you.

What still beats in your chest,
pumping through your gifts and breathing in your flaws.
I am NOT where the girl in blue told you I was.
I am where you hadn't looked.
I am where you know now to find me.
Where I always was and will be.

THE SAGE

Stop overloading. I'm overflowing.
Sleep evades our restless minds.
Dreams could be falling. Thoughts would be silent.
Can you really tell them apart?

Stairs and walls and forests and faces.
Absurd cases of the overactive.
They don't stop, they don't breathe
when they whirl you around in the wonderland.

Idyllic lands, dystopian air, fills their canvas.
Careful lines and blotted ink on the ornate papyrus.
Dancing a dance of disgrace and dignity.
Pulling apart two limbs, two ends.
Stretch or tear, stitch or care;
Sell those bottled stories of synthetic reality.

I've walked this far, we've saved some bits.
You've clenched too hard to care now.
This runs too fast. That burns too wild.
Who hid our maps of the Where n' How?

Okay. Calm down. Look. At. Me.
We're the sages in their cages.
Forgive me but I lost the keys
...somewhere in the pages.

THE WINDOW & THE BENCH

I remember the drizzle that chilled the bone,
On the bench that froze that evening;
the fingers that held the ice-cream cone
and my silent tongue going numb.

I looked up at the facade of monotony,
to spot her window amidst the clones.
I waved 'hello' to her, while
the empty window kept looking glum.

Then she opened the door and the lights filled in.
And she glanced down her window to find,
the bench, wet from the cold, cold rains,
and not a girl who cared a dime.

Yet she waved to the absent girl on the bench.
Just so she knows she's not ignored.
It's the least she could do for friendship;
and the most adventure I could afford.

And we felt miserable but peaceful in that moment.
We couldn't wave together, but that's fine.
The fun and the sad part is that
We can never be in two places at the same time.

MAPLE

So you have come,

from the land where I wish to belong

And you go back to your land soon.

I cast a spell in the air -

Let your retreat take to your land, the winds of my arrival.

I think the spell worked.

The gypsies gossiped in murmurs,

About the certainty of a certain someone's journey to their land.

I made your home, my home, in my heart

All the dark long nights I was willing to make mine

But...the winds changed.

You know what they say about change, don't you.

The only constant, the only truth, the only hope.

Like a wail came the despair but I didn't really hear it,

You know..

There's no such thing as a misfortune in my house.

So I cast a spell in the air again.

The winds will come your way...

And so will I.

​

SCARLET

Like liquid she fills.
Space bound, she flows
Beyond the boundaries I know.
I've seen glimpses and limbs.
Faces but unrecognized.
Light there is, there is a tool.
Two of them, there's two.
The one I know, and the one I fear.
Iron I seek not,
I wasn't really taught to.
My dreams are coloured of you.
Dreams, I could hardly describe yet,
Not nearly as beautiful, as haunting as you,
Dear Scarlet.

WEIGHT

Weight.

This sinking feeling has become familiar. Make it go away.

Wait. 

I've been telling myself of patience. 

How much more, sir?

How...much...more. 

The broken roads and hope. 

"This too shall pass". 

No time to taste the fruit. "Did you notice if the seeds fell on the ground?"

Nobody saw them germinate. The fog blurred it all. 

"Don't you look down upon it, now.

This one aims to outgrow your expectations."

When I looked down from here,

it lay in leisure, it subtly crept in joy, it looked so at peace.

Never grew a thorn.  Never feared the sun.

I was guessing it was unaware of the revenge we spoke about before.

Some days I'd watch it sit idly in thought.

Still as a rock.

Weight?

I wondered if it's exhausted, 

Or..... 

"Have you lost, little one?"

Wait.

Breathe.

It arose to a trembling pride. 

"You still see me."

Yet it never knew that I could see 

what gravity did to that sturdy chest.

"I don't need this weight anymore."

"I free you of matter."

Wait. The long wait, 

had come to an end.

And I then threw my head back to look at it float.

When my feet were still as the rock I'd seen.

They saw a faint smile behind the clouds.

Locked eyes on my feet.....

A hundred pairs of disbelief.

My feet grew wings.

Like a prophecy, we were bound together by a thread. 

And one day, I lost sight of the floating 'end'.
"The end? It has been a loop since the beginning."
"Where are you?"

"I am smaller on the moon,
None in space."

PSYCHE MAÑANA

I know there you do have your lovers, of what I am deep in admiration of, now.
I am one of them, those who stand in amazement, blurred in your sight.

You are the iron hand in the velvet glove,
The smirk behind the mask,
The goddess behind the rags
The knight disguised as a squire.
The Sorceress behind a squib.
The wildfire behind the trace of smog.

One who exists in solitude, in self.
The self that is peaceful, yet fierce.
The self that is dark, but never empty.

Dissembling who you are,
for the blind and deaf.
Occasionally revealing, often baring
your soul in its veracity, with honesty
You've realized it's.....convenient?  Probably, relieving.

The absurdity that is alluring,
A creature uncertain of his materiality....
The fire that's been held in,
in a dilemma of being surreptitiously exposed.
You cannot hold it in, and gladly, neither is it your wish.

There's an infinity in the universe you hold within this physical,
And I've never watched so closely, a being of your kind.
The more I peer, the clearer I see.

Yet as long as the veil continues to protect you, you're in there.
I intend to tenderly lay you bare,
of the slight covers that keep you an absurdity, a secret, a mystery?
And I'll smile at you a gentle one, I need to know who you are.

I guess you must have asked yourself a hundred times,
while laying in your bed, floating into the unwordly...and after.
I hope you keep that up. Not for the inquietude, but quite for the opposite.
Building your fortitude brick by brick,
On days, feebly watch it peel down...like an erosion wearing it out.
Build it back again piece by piece, this is the guardian of the Wall.

Get closer to who you are, every night and every dawn,
Growing over the contradictions on that path to detachment,
Absorbing every emotion you'd imagined or not.
But you know, pain heals you, heals the restless soul that used to be more
scattered, is it a little less haywire now?
Does it bring you closer to who you are.....?

But like the humans, I assume you need it too.
And my hand involuntarily lifts up to your cheek,
While the fist mildly grips your mane at the back of your neck,
Pulling in close as if trying to see through you.
That's although the subconscious intention.
But more so, a gesture of admiral, of discern.
In a way as 'normal' as anything you'd seen.

As if glancing in a mirror,
the lunacy fades away.....for now.. I think. But yes.
The obsession and the insanity, comes to senses.
"It's who you are."
A crawling wave of acceptance and serenity has started to insinuate into us.
"It is who we are. Who we will be."