Poetry
to me
is taking
my pain
and making
it sing.

Before I met you
I thought that
poetry was just
a collection of words,
that music was just
a collection of sounds,
that art was just
a collection of
shapes, colours and stokes
that life was just
a series of
years, breaths and steps
Indeed, I see things differently now
Through you, I am reborn

coming to terms with,
"not meant to be"
only produces misery,
as i sit here consumed by memories-
not ready to let you go.

distant or forgetful,
i guess it could be both,
yet finally hearing back from you
kicks in this newfound hope.
i exhaust this same routine,
day in and day out
as this distance,
in various ways,
only brings more and more doubt.

if giving up is the best thing for me to do,
how will i ever really know?
you keep pulling me in
as you weigh your options,
but can't bring yourself to let me go.

"distance makes the heart grow fonder"?
how exactly can that be?
when your mind and heart remain at war,
seems like the heart only grows anxiety.

Feel the moment pass.

Feel the air settle.

Soak it in

Like paper in a pool.

This is so much bigger

Than you.

Do not think now.

Do not let your mind

Be your universe,

Though there is life in it.

Feel,

But do not perceive.

For, this moment

Is

And has always been

Connected

To both the past

And the future.

Thus in some form,

You always have been,

And you always will

Be.

i stare into the temptress waters of your soul
i search for you upon the shadows
water droplets linger on my fingertips
the waves move as if they were in an argument with the moon
i stare the moon in it's eyes
searching for your soul
instead i find it in a treasure box under the sea
the box is locked and i do not have the key

I feel permanently lost on this road that leads straight to the meaningless end.