What is death, but a life’s futility?
Futility of truth beyond the lie.

The relief of spring’s first golden sorrow
beats down on my brow rousing my heart’s warmth
enlightening love by way of what’s lost.

He, whose glistening, shimmering glimmers
of hope seem to stutter on to no end,
Waits for for any such little late effort
in such slender threads to deign a blessing.
A deal only to pass after the part
on ones part comes to pass.

Although buoyancy of hope
Ebbing away,
Seems to foretell of total dissipation,
Icicles lit by the blue moon
Nonchalantly morph into stalagmites
Soaked in the light more golden than the sun’s.

Shadows of hope hang behind slender threads
That the equation can be crafted;
Pulling strings to put in our place
contributions mirroring our own.

From the storm of his eyes
he made an ocean for all life
but nobody spent time
to hold the ground beneath the storm
Nobody tried to contain the falling ocean
but let it fall, sea by sea
but then again, nobody saw

From his hurricane of words
Did the truth come aboard
nobody listened, nobody heard
he was forced to contain his own hurricane
nobody attempted to calm the wind to a breeze
or show the direction to blow in
but let it push his world further from reach
but then again nobody saw

He ran around on the ground
on the ground
picking every dandelion he saw
he picked the dead, he picked the new
nobody waited after him
held a vase to place them in
but let them fall, onto the ground
decaying as they did
through a bottomless pit
but then again nobody saw

From a rip in the sky,
the sun dripped till it burned
he savoured the burning
till he felt it no more
but nobody held the clouds to help the dying sun
but let it leak and leak till light became dark
but then again nobody saw

So he did not save,
the water
the wind
the dead dandelions
the light
and they did not know
but then again, nobody saw.

She sang Hallelujah
I said Amen
sing it again
Sister
just like Leonard
in a voice
so light
and subtle
it could darken
dark eyes
and I will wear black
like a knight
who must compose
himself before day
breaks forever into
its weary fever.

All the seasons have come
And brought many things with it
As well as many changes
My health improved,
I became stronger,
And found myself
Again!

2016 was but now it is almost gone
Not forgetting it
But remembering what it brought
Into my life

Now here comes 2017
Bringing more
Leading to what I had been planning
Taking effect
With the hopes off succeeding this coming year

Wholeness.
Whole-grain fullness.
Plump gun powder keg.
Ready to ignite.
Stillness.
Still felt helpless.
Ignition counteractive.
Writhing in the light.
Wilful.
Triumphant.
The better part of something.
The whole respect of nothing.
Bring sleeplessness a cure.
Rend ugly new allure.
Inspect the intro.
Respect the retro.
inflate the softened stone
a breath will bring you home

Fire Watcher.
Spark Guarder.
You smell of ash and the past.


Yea, burning your brother's shirt on the side of the street.
Stamping the spare sparks away with the soles of your feet.
Doesn't it hurt?
Sending souls beyond into the mist?
Turning the flesh into Flagships adrift?
Burning to be with the burnt.
Returning the souls to the earth.

Watching tiny flames ride skeletal monorails to work,
  wearing a brother's shirt,
    clutching father's overcoat...
      fan, release, stoke.
When we become tinder, Fire Watcher guides the cinders.
Tender eyes and mute mouth.
Ember skies and waking owls.
The wolf is allowed to howl again.

Spark Guarder waits for it all to go out.
Forgiveness in flame.

Little things started to rile
by all odds,
not quite like the ache
head leant against your back.

Under cover a long dull hum
I thought of ghosts,
but I faced down the quake
until your aura had been caved in.

Like a god in disguise from on high
withdrawn with no words
but with human inability to break
and get the best from doing wrong.

Little tale or true story
him and her trying each other out
but got back to the ways of their own.
"The pagan and the profane on an isle."

Reminded of a time when I felt so dark inside
Almost as if my identity was slowly being erased from this earth.
My reflection one big blur.
My identity non existent.

I no longer recognize the girl in the mirror.
Her pretty face with hollow eyes.

A small part of her afraid for her.
And the rest numb to the realization.
Man!
I almost lost her.
I want to apologize to her.
For almost refusing to harken to my truth.

For almost extinguishing her bright contagious flames.
For almost becoming the sad women, yet a beautiful fool.
  
I now vow to fight for her
To become the warrior princess she is destined to be.

I vow to always listen to her truth
I want to acknowledge her dreams and opinions.
I embrace her like never before.

Like war paint on my face,
I will wear a smile whenever I want
A tear whenever I want
A grin and even a blank slate whenever I want.

She is unapologetically me.

Never to be hidden again
Never an imposter of my truth - my true self

I will be me- me in it's purest form

And any disagreements or negative challenges or wills to change it will quickly be removed without hesitation.

For she will be seen.
She will be heard .
She will be loved and aware .
She will be.

She is here to stay
She is fearless, driven and believes in magical miracles daily.

She is me.
She is Shayleen.