Ebb and Flow

I could write dissertations

on the science of happiness

But I don’t.

Instead I write poems

(or a lack thereof)

and wade through its ebbs and flows,

watching as it drowns me

eludes me

brings me forward

pushes me away–

And I would study its every molecule,

separate its every hue,

document every euphoria,

diagnose every anxiety,

and spend each day observing every bright wonderful night

if only I knew

how

it

works.

IMG_20161012_212019

“Bright Wonderful Night”

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366 Poems: April 19th, 2016

…Something

Never cease to be amazed

that the world can be broken into calculations

and sounds,

that a feeling can be defined

by a place

or a song

or a word…

A word can mean nothing.

A word can mean everything.

A word can be the difference

between sorrow and survival,

and yet we’ll still never know

what we’re talking about…

We’re standing on the edge

of a rock hurtling through space,

falling through time on some uncharted path–

and you.

You are here.

You are alive.

You are in love with… something.

So please,

don’t ever let it go,

because this world is too good to pass up.

Cosmos

Here I am, something so small;

I barely seem a thing at all

compared to cosmos, far and wide

that I feel deserve greater pride.

For what are my problems to those

in lost interstellar limbos,

who blame our bids to hear their plea

on lack of air and gravity?

No, I’ve got nothing like the fear

that binds a celestial sphere,

and so I sit in humbled sky

and watch them as they drift on by…

.

But wait! Why do I muddle so

if my maps and charts let me know

that I’m the one who draws their path

and studies every pictograph?

For what are they, if they’re not seen,

but pieces of a lost machine…?

Know it only takes something small

to see the wonder of it all.

“A Sky Full of Stars”
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