A fish can say to a frog
   "I am a tree
    And you a leaf"
But that doesn't make it so
In truth or shade
Midst nature and in light
They were designed as neither such to be
On top of which
It's different languages they speak

There is nothing
***
cannot fetch for me!

I open my eyes
I touch God
I see stars
I see the dark
everything fits
I shake
at your touch

Like a gulp of loaded water
Like a violent flash
Restoring the chaos
in my heart
Everything in place
supernovas - through the maze

It's your love
It's the power I've got
It's the world
channeled below

A new year begins and reflection.
Grabs ahold of me.
Yeah I guess I'll hop on this trend.

It's hard not to think of my perception.
Of my life, out across life's ocean

I think of simply this last year.
But my thoughts, span a decade.

Of all of my trials and tribulations.
Of all of the choices, that I have made.

Of all the lessons presented.
Of the ones, I just might have learned.

Of all of my dreams and my wishes.
For all the things, that I have yearned.

I find, myself left wanting.
Wanting at this point, I know not what for.

Because, as these years have passed by.
I let extinguish, all the passion, that once burned.

So I think I find myself wanting.
In a reflection I couldn't help but start.

An ember found in the ashes.
The ashes, that once was my heart.

It's funny, how I can envision fantasy.
Daydream, or write, or make it said.
But visions of reality are just lacking.
As though what my eyes see,
Just won't go in my head.

It feels like my fates thread when created.
Was simply, thrown up and strung along.
With no thought, or consideration,
If when born weight, it could even stay strong.

And as I try, to follow said string.
Hoping I can use, just a little, to mend.
All that I've not seen as I've been packing.
Those little fantasies,
That are stuck in my head.

So I sit with virtual paper,
Pulled taught by the corners of my soul.
Writing my thoughts of sweet fiction.
To someone, I'll likely, never know.

I've come to realize baggage,
Is really a woven empty bag.
Yarn of broken hopes and expectations.
Woven together of things, we thought we once had.

Mostly made up of people,
Really just of the memories.
That over time we have formed.

Memories needled together.
In some knit stitch,
Knitting kind of storm.

The key to baggage is in part knowing,
A few things, right from the top.

It's only an empty bag you've been making.
That you have to unravel, to get the knitting, to stop.

Unravel all of those people.
From the strings of moments,
They've been trapped in.

Like a web of a spider, life *******.
Removing the web, is where you begin.

Hopefully you'll find yourself in the remainder.
Of the now useless, pieces of thread.
And once you've untangled all that madness.
You'll find, it's made, a pillow for your head.