Every night we learn to die,
to forget the mass of flesh and bone
and travel beyond the realms of our perceived lives.
Every closing of the eyes,we leave and live a million lives.
A jumble of different things
Some formed of unfinished thoughts
Others with nothing we have seen before.
Every night we learn the abandonment of a cage we call home,
Yet we fear the day when there is no return.
So I learn to think of death as I would a house move.
Not as close to those I once lived near but still in their sphere.
Not all alone
But in a new home.
Splatter. The blood dripped from my nose
Onto the white paper covered in words
And now the essence of me.
Folded into pages. The coursing part of me.
Is it real ? Are we brothers bound in blood ?
Can the tiny trail I leave behind
Serve to remind
The world of my existence ?
Will a girl read these pages and crinkle her nose?
As I crinkle mine to keep from overflowing.
Do I matter ?
Blood on a page can last longer than in my veins.
Passed from hand to hand through the ages
Life on pages.
It occurs to me that I am blind
And so are you.
We all are.
We have been given two eyes
Into which we put all our beliefs
And yet we know that our sight is limited
We know but we forget.
I will not call them eyes from now on.
I will call them filters.
To remind me over and over
That what I see, is what I’m allowed to see
That I am blinded by this human form
That I put so much emphasis on what I deem to be true
Based solely on what comes through.
But the universe is bigger, deeper , wider and more full than
The tiny portion of my tiny brain
Will let me imagine.
I look for comfort in billowing spume.
Thunderous. Luminous. Vicious.
Circular motion then thundering roar
That’s where my heart can soar.
That body. That body.
That mass. Oh my.
I can barely hear the seagulls cry.
I seek comfort in it’s swishy gurgle
Its undulating moves.
Its undertow , high and low.
I can ride this beast
But can never conquer it’s swell.
I’m driftwood .
Bobbing. Bobbing. Babbling.
Rushing to shore. Rushing to shore.
Then poof….. No more.
No more me.
Only soft yellow sands
Formed from a million things that were once tough as rock.
But are now full of footprints.
There’s a long luscious list of reasons we should
But a jagged emporium of poisonous consequences
Jars upon jars upon shelves upon walls
Filled with outcomes. Black outcomes.
They swirl around like mini-galaxies
Holding us both hostage to our decisions.
It’s not just one you see?
All the things that led us here
A million ways we can go wrong
Let’s sit here for a while. On the safe floor.
In the room without a door.
Where the only way out
‘Oh to die a hero’
Is there anything better?’
Assuming we’ll feel pride when we are dead.
So you believe in the afterlife ?
No. No. No.
Then why bother dying a hero?
But if you believe in more
You believe in a soul
Then dying for the right thing
Must be your goal.
The terrible thing though
Is that what you deem to be true
Is completely different to my point of view
So please never ever, cause alarm
It is not your destiny to do harm
You must not interfere
It is never your role
To decide the passing of another soul.