The symmetry of the soul is lost on me
There are no straight lines between
Right and wrong
It is asymmetry
That leads me to conclude
Morality exists above the laws
Attainable only to the few that understand
Truth is a prelude
Or a lovely ode
Dissonant in its ever changing nature
To the point that it alludes
Even the holiest codes
As I sit here on my throne
And consider this crooked reality
Never to be certain
Philosophy is my home
==============================
It is through uncertainty
Where we certainly
Feel alive enough
To ask the question
Why?

"There is no story worth telling"
He said
After I asked him of his loss
The man seemed blank,
Empty,
Without regards to his obvious depression
In a denial that was building,
Block by block,
A wall around the sadness he hid inside
His stoic exterior sent shivers up my spine
Attributing to a lurking fear
That perhaps this man had broken,
Snapped,
And maybe just one slip of tongue
Would trigger an eruption
Of repressed emotion
Itching to find an expression
Yet he remained cool like ice
That forms in the nights of winter
With eyes burning hotter
Than the streets in summer
As he repeated his mantra
"There is no story worth telling"
At which point he walked off the roof
Taking his loss with him

Deceptive it sleeps
Waiting for the rage
All consuming
A break in the torrent
Pain subsiding
It's replaced
Singular focus pulses
Throbbing incessant
Needing to be released
Craving blood for blood
Seeing red
It's free

And then words
Alone
Are not enough
To sate
The demon patient
Waiting
Hiding behind
My face

What words left unspoken
Speak callous to the mute
For it is grace to give sound      
Opposition tranquil                        
Like the rushing water              
Heard from a background ravine
Babbling incessant                              
Just out of reach                              

Woe it is that such secrets rest
That truth ranks second      
En lieu of base expression      
Deeming stoic pretense superior
To turbulent interior                          
Similar to the focus of a predator          
Stalking it's prey              
<Silent>
Waiting for the perfect opportunity
AMBUSH!                          
To sate the quiet hunger              
Patiently lying in wait                

Oh, it is a shame that masks be worn
For behind that false visage        
Rests a truth                        
Left unspoken

My sadness comes when life is put into perspective
Just how tiny we all are
In a scheme unknowable
But also possessing knowledge
A contradiction set in the realization
That perfection is not a part of our condition
Instead that we are conditioned to seek
Nay
My sadness is not one devoid of happiness
But alas one of wanting more than can be obtained
Straining to see through a looking glass
Whose aperture contains but the slightest imperfection
Such that the vision produced is warped
To a degree that sight becomes a lie
Dancing like a butterfly just outside my peripherals
Taunting and laughing at me during those quiet moments
Of peaceful contemplation
That lends the insight that generates a sadness
As massive as the black hole at the center of our galaxy
******* in the surrounding information
Only to spit it back out
Unrecognizable
To the otherwise happy and content man
That desires to be more than this mortal coil can permit
So I sit and write aimless lines
Designed with the intent
To convey in words
The potential inherent within a mind
Wondering adrift in a world possessing a surplus
Of ignorance

If only others possessed my sadness

The world could be a happier place

The dissonant chime rolled over the distant mountains
.
A chain peaked and capped in the reflective white sheen of never-dying ice
.
Reverberating to the tune of loneliness in a sensual duet between the wind
.
Where every gust unites the pallette into such a beautiful harmony
.
That the range can't help but to announce it's existence to the world
.
In cadence like a sweet symphony tuning to the pitch of A
...
Before the start of the first movement
...
The Earth begins to tremble
...
In ode to the Spine of the World

Minds claim to know that which is not.
Foundations... they are broken and they rot.
From the rubble is found a truth stronger than life;
To understand that knowing is nothing but
Standing on our understanding.
Now we 'K'now

I wish we could have stopped
To catch our breath
And consider the path to which we now travel
I feel guilty
Guilty that my behavior
Became a tyrant
Dictator
Focused solely on the oppression of the "I"
So consumed was I
In my hunt for supremacy and success
That I lost you within my own hubris
Thinking that it's my way
Or the highway
Just because I read a few books
Doesn't make me king everything
The way I smothered you
Makes me king nothing
For this I am broken
I did not realize the burden of proximity
Until the erosion of your character was complete
For this I apologize
I did not intend
For it to end
In such a way
I loved you
You were my balance and muse
Yet I threw you away like you were old news
Until that's what you became
A person lost in the complexity
Of a prison I built with words
Not your own
Forever reducing you to a mere shadow
Of the woman
Living in my home

My actions
My fault
My heart
My vault
My
My
My
Never you

I'm sorry

The pain sours as the milk spills
Rancid subjugation to the rejection
Of a cause without its mode
What positive devolves into negative
A multiplicity of being that sheds light
When consumed by dark dawn
Where clouds bring rain in a permanence
Detached from loving life in full
As the moon wanes to new
Betraying a sky desperate for a clearing
To wash free the trapped potential
Inherent within striated cumulus
Begging for a release that allows breathing
For an inner compassion held captive
And bright sun dimmed by the regret of day
Sadly passing in multitudes; a rehashing
Beyond that of moving skies crying
Tears of forbearance belonging to trees
Drowned under weeks of relentless monsoon
Desperately gasping for a mindful remedy
An explanation for a cycle that perpetually
Stops giving
•••
I breathe out pain only to receive it again