You would think that
Light is always bright,
Shining, Luminescent,
Searing, burning, illuminating,
Perpetual dawn rolling across
Earth's lopsided expanses.
You would think.

Light and Darkness
Were once perfectly melded-
Minded-
Molded together, in the
Time before time,
In the cusp of God's hands
Pressing together and
Held apart in infinite
Pressure and density and love.
They were one yet separate,
Filling the mindless firmament between
The Left and Right Hand of God,
Before He created Earth.

You know the Beginning:
When the Heavens came into
Being
(So that the minds
Of men and women could
Acknowledge their existence)
And then the Earth was
Created

God moved His hands
(And Spoke through Them)
The earth, formless, void:
The Light in God's Hands
Marveled at the Living Light,
The Source of all things
Whom the light had dreamed about,
In its cupola that it thought to be
Infinite, but was somehow, beyond;
God, it seemed, had more,
A Higher Purpose for The Light

And The Darkness, seeing his
Brother distracted and occupied,
And uncomprehending the why
And how of God’s Light and
The Light (his brother?) standing
Close, so close, in perfect
Conversation, and why?
Why was not The Darkness a
Part of His Conversation?

Darkness, in the infinitesimal moments
After Creation had begun,
Turned his back on God and
Saw what was beneath him.
He
Streaked blackly down to the new
Thing God had made simply
By Speaking.

“What is The Darkness doing,
God?”
The Light asked, confused
For the first time.
“I don’t understand.”
God spoke, a gentle,
Soothing whisper.
LOOK FOR YOURSELF,
LIGHT.
And The Light looked,
Shining the barest part of
Himself down, so that
The Darkness could see.

The Darkness saw itself
Hovering over the waters.
The round globe that
God created was covered,
Filled with something
Mysterious and liquid
And like itself, Dark,
Deep, and brooding.

Dark and Void
Were now one.
Away from the Presence
Of God.
The Darkness had never
Flown, or streaked, or
Zipped like lightning before.
And Darkness saw that it was
GOOD.

Now Darkness was doing it.
Darkness was all OVER this
Planet-thing. Darkness had
The WHOLE
THING COVERED.
And Darkness saw that it
Wasn't moving. It had never
Been so big, so
EXPANSIVE before.
It circled the entire planet,
A giant ring of Itself,
For thousands and thousands
Of miles. Looking at the deep
Dark wet stuff,
Darkness saw its face
For the first time.
Not GOOD, Darkness thought
To Himself.
GREAT.
But before The Darkness
Could get a longer
(And much more detailed)
Look, becoming more and more
Connected with the Void…

Four of God's Words
Split the whole of existence
In TWO

'LET THERE BE LIGHT'

The Light of Creation
Exploded outward and
Simultaneously
Imploded inward
Scalding Darkness' eyeballs black
And God took The Darkness
In His Hand and Threw
Him to the other side
Of Earth,
12 hours
And 12,500 miles away.

God favored the "Light"
And called it "Good"
Darkness wanted to hear that
Spoken about himself.
But God further divided
And delineated them
By changing their natures.

The Light, now powered by a nearby
***** Yellow Star
Almost a hundred million
Miles away
(So as to not cook or
Freeze them to death)
God explained cryptically
Who is THEM
(The Light wondered)
There are OTHERS
Besides God?
And us?

But when God was doing His
Business, and it involved you,
YOU PAID ATTENTION

SOL IS EARTH’S STAR
YOU ARE NOW A SOURCE
OF LIFE. YOU WILL RULE
THE FACE OF THE PLANET
HALF OF AN EARTH DAY.
And God's Pure Light
Was now intimately linked with,
Among other things, the creatures
That God was even now filling the
Seas and the Land.
The Light’s new name was
"Day"

The Darkness changed simply
By God Willing It.
The Darkness liked his new name,
Closer to Light's old one
(Night)
And Night thought he might be
Happier, after all, since
God placed so much
MORE of him, far, far out
In the Heavens, in the
Unfathomably
(Though fathomable to him)
Empty spaces between the
Stars that gave birth to
Day every single itself.

But God punished The Darkness
For being Prideful, and marveling
At the beauty of his face
So God banished The Darkness
To reside alongside, and
Even, with, the Void
Who had been cast down
An Eternity before, waiting,
Waiting for just such a planet
To come along, so that Void
Could rule the air
(Like a Prince,
Deposed to his
New kingdom).

The Dark had never before
Felt something so different,
So ‘Off-Natured’ from God
Almighty.
Night was afraid, so Night
Kept his head down and
Out of sight and
Did his job.
The Light shone through
A tiny yellow orb, and
This light bathed the planet
In a veil of brightness.
Night was only one
Aspect of The Darkness, like
A Cousin created to do a
Very specific job, which
Left The Darkness to explore
Earth and the Surrounding
Heavens.

The Light had other aspects,
A nickname, if you will:
“Daylight” and
Daylight, in spite of
All he could see
(But Daylight praised God for this,
And knew God was the Source of All Things)
And all the creatures and
The Man and The Woman
Saw,
Daylight missed his brother,
The Dark.
But the Stars would only shine
Him in the Way God Intended,
And not a little brighter more.
So Daylight did his job, too.

One itself, as Day again
Chased Night away
(Always on Night's heels,
But never EVER catching him!)
Day was shining on a patch
Of water that seemed familiar.
But the water was, well,
Watery, and diffuse, and it
Slowed down Light's usually
Terminal Velocity, and bent and
Diffracted and distracted his
Straight-line nature. Light asked
God to tell Night he was sorry.

YOU’VE A VOICE
YOURSELF, DAY.
TELL NIGHT YOURSELF.

Thank You, Light of Heaven,
Day said, feeling the Star
Sol going into a brief and
Exciting supernova,
A thin yet ultimately powerful
Ray of Sol’s tremendous
Energy shining down
On that little familiar patch
Of water.

Day shouldered its
Way through thick clumps of
Seaweed (now dead) and down,
Ever down,
Deeper than any light had
Ever penetrated the Dark
Ocean.
Down, the light went, down,
To its breaking point,
Where Daylight was barely
Discernible as itself.
It got to the place
Where He ended,
And his brother began.
With its last photon of energy,
Daylight gave itself to
His long-lost Twin.
"I'm sorry, Dark"
A patch of exceptionally black
Darkness wobbled a nod.
(Me too, Light)
It seemed to say.
"I miss you, brother,” sobbed
The Light.
And God have Light his request,
Allowing him to shine just
A little more brightly,
And the Light gave of himself
To his Brother Darkness.
“God, may I please
Keep this little light
Of mine
To remind me of
My Brother Daylight?

Dark was no longer so very
Lonely
As God put a bit of
Himself
In the strange, strange
Creatures who lived with
And in total
Darkness.
And the Dark
Loved those creatures
So much so that when
You
(Or I)
Capture a Dark
Creature,
It cannot,
Will not
Survive the Light
On the Surface
Of the Ocean

Say if all events:
'Past, present, future'
All possible occurrence
Chosen and averted
Are already on the 'map'
Of spacetime
(Interpreted from Relativity, Einstein)

Like infinite numbers of
Vacation spots

and
Time is merely
Our conscious measurement
Of indivisible increments
Of the ever-present
(St. Augustine)

A record of travelling

And if our fourth dimension of time
Is our one dimensional consciousness
Where we can only travel from
Event to event
Dot to dot
In seemingly constant speed
And one direction

As if a railway passenger

In one of the higher dimensions of time and consciousness
Though unfathomable and would seem omnipresent and eternal yet timeless
To us dots in a three dimensional flatlands

As the wayward of them
Had stumbled or spilled
Into our dreams

We would finally be able to
Run wild and free
Greet our past and future
Embrace familiar friends and strangers
In the wildlands
Of a higher dream

And we would not be
Arriving at a dimension of
Love and intuition

But we would inherently
Be beings of love
And intuition

Though we only seldomly
Physically feel them
And never see them

They're part of us
Only visible
Only fathomable
In higher dimension
Of
Spacetime

The snow reminds me of every part of you
Your shimmering blue eyes
Flecked with shades of gray
They were iridescent
Resemblance of the sky at winter time
Without a slight touch of clouds
The depths of your deep chestnut brown hair
Reflected all the radiance in your smile
On the well-carved yet pale lips of yours
A smile that could cure cancer and wars
When your cold fingers touch mine
It sends shiver down my spine
You're no prince charming
Nor are you a mighty knight
Just someone for me to cuddle
During chilly nights
The way you laugh- oh its cliché
How it simply takes my breath away
Like a snowflake's delicate six-fold symmetry
Something about you is exquisite, indescribably
Without no fathomable sign I'm just drawn to you
Each and every part of your beautiful existence

i watch the clock tick to 2 milliseconds past 1900 hours and i remember how, at 2 milliseconds past 1400 hours, just 5 hours earlier, i was cradling you in bed
it was warm and we were interlocked and you looked heavenly
the glow of the sunshine a halo around a face full of sleep and too beautiful even for poetry.
i try to verbalise you, try to write you down to make your existence more fathomable –
i cannot.
there are no words for a heart that beats honey through soft-skinned veins,  that swirls around your mouth like saliva and you taste so **** sweet.
i told my doctor i have a sweet tooth, what i meant was i am addicted to you; what i meant was i can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night to fix the cravings i have when you aren’t there.
what i meant was, sometimes i sleep walk, find myself at
platform number 5 of the same station i left you at hours before hoping that some sweet fragrance of you still lingers.
i watched the clock tick to 2 milliseconds past 1900 hours and i watched the train move away in slow motion.
i watched your face until i couldn’t see it anymore and i have never felt longing like it. suddenly i felt like a lost kid at the supermarket trying to find their parent and i wanted to scream for you to come back because although this train moved in slow motion i swear 2 milliseconds passed and you were gone.
i tried not to blink because i didn’t want to miss a single moment.
i sent you “i love you” through a screen that is too familiar to me now and felt the itch of my craving against my spine –
i will wait for you.
i replay the last kiss in my head; it was probably our seventieth goodbye kiss because each one didn’t encompass all the love we needed to express before the train departed and i taste honey.
i cannot make your existence more fathomable because that would mean to understand you and in all your complexity, i never want to stop learning –
so please,
allow me to explore your mind in every neurotransmitter, in every dopamine dosage, in every fight or flight reaction; allow me to explore what it is to be you and let me write you into every poem i ever produce, let me hallucinate you into every city street, cast your reflection in every shop window, replace every tin of beans with jars of honey and settle like dust on my lips –
i will wait for you.
every day, i wait for you.

"You were born to do this."
I reminded myself as I sat there feeling encaged in a flurry of endless thought and emotion.
"Why do I have to feel every aspect of every event of life, so deep?"
I thought as I fought myself once again to simply pick up the pen and drain the overflow of despondency onto paper.
"Breathe."
The words, letters, verbs and thoughts continued to swirl in my ever rampantly unsettled abyss of ideation.
Once I surrendered to the raging of the erupting of the soul..there was calm.
It's likened to the deaf..taken away their ability to sign..The dancer with both feet removed.
Had I no other pleasure but to expel grief, fervor and elation and form them into words to heal the shattering so entrenched..they appear unreachable..I'd beg to be buried with just a writing utensil and endless reams of freshly pressed paper.
"Theres Light."*
I mouth that..as I continue to jot as if I were stitching my heart back together with this pen.
Even though I'm within this seemingly grave like cave of aching..I can write.
The beauty is in the creation..The ability to construct, like a carpenter..all that your heart desires with your own two hands..to simply Heal the paragraphs of life that were written badly, write over them or erase and rewrite..if only it were that easy.
I don't aim to undo..I cannot.
Just to poetically fabricate from this point on..allow the stumbles to happen and Love greater than thought fathomable.
Surrender. To the page.
Scribble it out, empty it onto line after line..and crawl atop..until the words fill the fragments and the ink stains your fingertips..Keep climbing upon the proverbial stacks of paper until the towers reach the aperture of the pit.
Creating the mending of affliction, soothing the misery of the choking of words you cannot utter, but you can scratch them onto tablets to deplete the churning of the mind.
Write. Write badly.
Write as if in a mad race to the finish line, then start over again..Until the trails of Letters stretch so long..you could dance upon them for days.
Then Breathe.
Soak every word into your skin as if attempting to heal the afflictions..
then Become it.

Lover, I was never a creature of euphonious language, but, in the sincerest way possible, I want to trace the lines in your palms with my fingertips I could blindly transfer them onto paper like my native language; there is something that tells me that there are otherworldly creatures that breathe life into every speck of dust floating by your window in the early morning so they can be assured that every particle feels the blessing of seeing the loveliest of nonsense spilling from your lips in a low mutter; I have dreamt of a world where I am stringing harps with every word you said that I grabbed with my grimy hands and condensed into velvet strings and in this world I play you a melody and I do not tremble and you are immortal. However, I do not quarrel with this reality that is given to me, for I know that it is an honor to have been placed on this earth in the realm of your existence, to have the privelege to see the way the sun glows this new shade of warmth when it is bathing your shoulders — like a lover with kisses made of milky light, it kisses you into a divine sort of oblivion that I cannot help but envy and admire, I know we do not realize the true beauty of things until they are broken but I have haggled my soul to never see you crack, and God knows I would extinguish the flames behind my eyes so that they are reduced to low-burning coals, in the hopes that you and everything delicate that follows close behind will at least hover just beyond my grip, still not too close because I have always had trouble keeping a gentle grip on heavenly things and you are a piece of every form of divinity that I can bear to break down into fathomable thoughts; so, here I love you from worlds away — yes, from worlds away, I love you.

I am a writer.

One who can close myself away into a small dimly lit space and gush life onto an insubstantial substance of fibrous material..in hopes that once finished..reads of something that makes sense and releases a tad of this confined fury..that whirls in my ever churning mind.

I am a Dreamer.

A human born into disparaging circumstances, that grasped for anything tangible, as early as I can possibly recollect. With a never ending desire to find truth and love beyond the abuse that I endured throughout all of my childhood..Determined to view life..clear of the filters embedded over my eyes, attempting to force my mind to function through the inherited dysfunction.

I am a Lover.

Believing in a Love so genuine, that it literally heals all human afflictions .
Investing in a hope in all things soulful and lucid.
Craving to Love free of the bounds thought fathomable, truly devoting to other souls..the most valuable asset - Time - and desirous to Lead with Love in every moment.

I am a Writer.

My knees buckle under the pressure of imaginary weight.

An un-fathomable burden conjured by my mind.

Who knew nothing could weigh so much?

build the earth from nothing,
she demanded.

build around me a shield of green and
carve your cityscapes into my ribcage,
burrow deep into my flesh and
drink from my throat like thieves.
i gave you everything but the clothes
on your back and the poison
you stole from my name,
shutting out birdsong and brainwaves for rocketships and
buckets of red that stained my dress like the frost.
i have been bleeding, starving, praying,
but you've only
licked your lips and settled
more comfortably into the rabbit's fur like the demons you are.

an outcry.
we had planted her fingers and
eaten the roots
just as she had asked,
pressed the dark, rich earth between our toes
as blood seeped from the pores of our skin
and acid dripped into the lungs of the children.
we had stood in the cold shivering and knocking
but her door remained sealed
for still she was not pleased.

we had outsmarted her
once before, you see.
twisted glacial rivers and sent showers of sparks towards
the sky in a beauty more precise than arrows,
and by luck of the dice
had turned her pieces round.
but she had shaken us off her shoulder
as easily as a dew droplet or
the shedding of a second skin,
an empty shell that filled with rainwater
when left out for a night.

our punishment was one of unusual origins and
hadn't a fathomable end,
one we couldn't even begin to guess.
our question stands in a noose of gold and silver
and i've a feeling the jury will clatter their knees
to protect the guilty.

and who were we to speak the truth when
the snapping of necks deafened the loudest voice?

My biggest fear in this life is to be insignificant,
to change the world in no way fathomable
and that my being is forgotten forever;
to not be remembered.

There is so much that I want to say, need to say, but the way to
release is not yet apparent.
I fear that my time will run out.

But then I remember, that my
veins that coarse with blood are the maps of the world
that I am yet to discover
and that this life is a journey and I was born to travel.

And the crimson and plum shapes that decorate my
flesh which hold many memories inside their outline,
are the collapse of a nebula in the sky
that creates the birth of a star.

I, myself, collapsed.
I crumbled to the ground into dust and could find no way to grow again.
But that was not my destruction, after all.
It was my birth.
I was reborn from the same dust as the stars and
I can soar through the sky with the blood pumping through my veins.

I am alive.
I am so alive because I am nature itself.
How could I be insignificant when I have
galaxies expanding through my body and
flowers blooming in my mind,
that are being watered by the fall of October rain.

I am nature itself,
and I have never felt
more alive.

I am full of the world.

As children, we wonder
over the subtle vibrations of our voices
traveling through a frayed string
between two empty cans of sweet corn.

We grow up watching spaceships scream across
endless stars, and the stars have names
like Alpha-232 and Gamma-786,
because wiz-kid men in observatories have to be practical.

Our back pockets have the universe on a leash, milliseconds
from genius, because the 4G internet is so **** fast.

There are virtual realities more real than summer grass,
crickets humming on computer screens in winter,
and the voices and faces of the dead swimming on televisions 24/7.

Infinity has never been more fathomable.


It makes you wonder, when the sun crumbles into dusk
and you’re on the back porch with a cigarette smoked and dying,
how we’ve never managed to engineer a cure
for loneliness.

Like a snake slowly coiling around my vitals,
your sly words took hold of me.
Everything beautiful and calm, hidden wretchedness,
a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Justifying your words, my feelings;
heads spinning.
A stronger love than fathomable, I fell so hard,
blind to the sinister lies that your flawless lips leaked out.
Drool oozing out, I'm hungry for the last taste of you,
you're the apple and I'm Eve,
releasing my last bit of dignity, I
chased the perfect evil that is You.
Skin shed, your soul revealed: dark.
Stars fading overhead, aching, stomach in knots...
waking up refreshed, reborn, life without the shackles.
The rising new sun is brighter than before.

We have a sizable job before us poets

the serpent used a poem so sweet and subtle

Eve's swoon was akin to Elvis' adolescent entourage

lyrics that could talk you into wanting to know more about

how to talk using lyrics that could talk you into wanting to

know more about how to talk using more of a language

that operates the mind, that speaks to will itself.

and Adam, like the Junior High sympathetic, waiting by the phone

wondering what she does when she's out of sight,

finding them in the clearing smiling with casual familiarity

only to say, 'Oh, hey, where have you been, care to meet my new friend?'

and He, obliging since he already knows that what she likes,

He ought to find well and good, enjoys a chat and a snack with

this beguiling stranger who seems so learned and worldly.

our duty to redeem the artifice, to turn the mechanics into a

tool for what will come to be understood as good, the aesthetic that governs,

where the dust in the creekbed shuffles similarly to a star devoured by gravity,

light in the dewdrop with the fragrance off the petal, the song and the wing

together in the tree, the telling of a tale in weight and measure,

brushstroke and letter, the definable math, the falsely fathomable organic

randomness, precisely ambiguous, colossally specific, superficially profound,

is tasked with using the design, generating every nomenclature through metaphoric

action, the most real thing, the underpinning, the scaffold, the Tao.

I’m in a glass.
I am a piece of glass.
Fragile, fragmented, fractured.
Vulnerable, volatile, visible.
Transparent, translucent, transient.
Break me like you break the bones,
throw me like you throw the stones.
Destroy me like you explode the stations,
crush me like you **** the nations.

I’m in a bubble.
I am a piece of bubble.
Fantasized, fathomable, free.
Enlightened, encompassed, entangled.
Breathless, beautiful, (before I) burst.
Burst me like you extinguish a child’s hope,
terminate me like you diminish the sense of cope.
**** me like you shoot the innocent,
stifle me like you strangle the incompetent.

I am in a human being. I am a human being.
But I am also a glass, and also a bubble.