The Final Tide

Years later, when these tears have dried
with the mist
will you even recognise the pain
that's floated down the years?

Years later, when we walk beneath
teary-eyed skies,
will you spare a moment and laugh
at how dry my eyes look?

Years later, when all my love
has turned to loss
Will you turn to me and whisper that
all that anger was love?

Lonely Planet

People aren't afraid of going through the horrors of hell. Indeed, an inherent, inexplicable streak of masochism makes them welcome pain as a depraved form of pleasure.

What scares people is that, after they've been through the fire, nobody will ask them how it was. That there'll be nobody to complain about hell. That nobody will hear their belated screams. That nobody will care that they're still alive. And that, eventually, it might want to make them leap into the flames again. Forever.

The Same Old Roads

Years later, when we walk

On these familiar, worn roads

Under grey skies and hesitant rain

A few drops from the skies will

Remind us of the pain of

Eager expectation. Years later,

Mostly forgotten memories will reawaken

You and me from temporary stupor -

Our thoughts touching, arms interlinked,

- Nascent, tiny pains will seems blurs -

Loneliness will stay alone.

You and I will lie down some years

Later and remember the heady buzz

Of separation. And we'll laugh at how we made ourselves

Victims of time. Time, you know,

Evaporates. Love remains. Forever.

final leap

winsome willow

leaps in the air

an act of faith

overdue

since the seeds 

of its slow time

were swept into being.

a break in flight

it realises

the satisfaction

in a slow death.

the roots leave 

their shallow home:

sometimes life begins

with death.

Footnote #5

Sometimes too much of quantity is lost in search of quality.

It's that haunted feeling of anticipated loss:

Perfection is a terrible, and terrific, illusion.

Nevertheless, illusions keep the ego sated.

O Perfect Muse, come to me. Now.

Breathing Images

the mirror shivers

and kicks my dull reflection

into deep focus

All Dreams Finally Break

And so when I go to sleep tonight

I'll put my dreams on hold

and strip them bare.

I'll pull my blanket over my eyes

and hope they won't find me.

I hope they won't come 

and tear my blanket away

and leave me shivering in 

the music-less night.

I'll hope they won't take my belongings

and scream with their eyes.

I'll hope they won't give me the inevitable

blood-draining news:

That I'm just a ghost now

That my past is dead

That nothing belongs to me anymore

That I was living in falseness

That tomorrow I should take my wife 

and children and start living in parking lots.

That the millions I invested

have crumbled to dust. 

That my past was a lie

That my present and future

are incompatible.

That my family will have to 

beg to exist.

That we have nothing to 

call our own.

That our private lives have become

public objects.

That I won't be able to hug my children

in a few quiet moments of solitude.

That from now on, whenever I have to

make love, I'll have to remember that

strange eyes are always looking.

That this is the curse for daring to dream.

...I'm afraid of riches now

I'm afraid to live in 

palaces of ephemeral opulence.

I'm afraid of them.
I'm afraid of floating on clouds 

that crash into mountains.
I'm afraid of hope...

But it's all I have

So I'll hope that hope succeeds.

I'll hope that hopes succeeds

So tonight when I go to sleep

I'll hope that the screams inside 

my head finally stop.

When I go to sleep tonight

I'll put my dreams on hold

so that the dreams I've built my life on 

don't break so soon.