Away

I’m going to run away–

not from you, not from you

I’m going to run away.

I’m going to run away,

and if true, not from you

will I ever run away.

Will I ever run away?

If I do, if I do,

it will be a splendid day.

I will fly so far away

without you, to the blue

where the crouching tigers play.

But I will not run away–

not from you, if I do,

we will see another day.

Where the crouching tigers play,

I’ll run through, back to you

and refuse to be their prey.

I don’t want to run away.

Though I do, not from you

does my heart wander astray.

Yet I must now run away.

If I stay, if I stay

my future will never play.

Now I ask of you to stay

if you do, if you do

then I will come back someday.

In my heart I hope and pray

that you do, God,¬†please do–

See my knees here where I lay.

And then soon I’ll run away

from that blue, back to you,

as if six months were a day.

And I’ll always run this way

and I’ll stay, when I do.

Yes I’ll stay…

I’ll run to you

because you make home not so far away.

“Ocean, Stars, Sky, and You”
http://muddymelly.deviantart.com/

366 Poems: December 6th, 2016

The Universal Mechanism

Behold the universal mechanism!

A grand effort.

The glorious creation of time and space!

Where everything moves, and everything turns,

and everything fits in its proper place.

Behold, the far-reaching reality!

Where life turns to death

and magic turns to science,

where war turns to peace, to war, to peace, to war–

Behold! The great dinosaur that is man

who thinks, somehow, that his invention was planned

and that the asteroid sits in the palm of his hand.

Or does it?

It may if he might.

For the universe has no end in his sight.

Lo, if only he could behold

the machine

ticking

away,

Behold the universal mechanism!

.

Enjoy your stay.

universe-t-shirt

“The Universal Mechanism”

366 Poems: September 11th, 2016

Cuckoo Birds

I haven’t yet turned 21,

and still I lost myself

on a Saturday night,

laid in the arms of an angel,

fell asleep on a bed of feathers,

and woke up

to the sun.

But the light was not blinding enough

to hide the room,

disorganized.

Or the bed filled with cuckoo birds

and a face I no longer

recognized.

And if you thought it was his, it was not.

It was mine.

Because try as I might,

I still can’t escape the calling

tweeting

flying–

of time.

“A cuckoo-clock heart”
http://kaleidomewstar.deviantart.com/