[72] Brushed Aside

[72]

Cleaning the space
Pushing the dust away
Shows me only
The horrors that it was hiding.

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[40] Pushing Forth

[40].png

How is it
To be with angels?
To be a part of,
To be happy,
To be love?

All I know
Is what you’ve given me
But what’s it like to see
All the world
So preciously?

Abstract geometry
With all these patterns twirled?
A colourful labyrinth
On a desolate world?

The psychedelic splendor
Of lysergic acid trips?
The force that pushes time on
Before and after the eclipse?

The Moon puts The Sun in shadow
But that isn’t a destination;
It’s only half of a translation.

I’ve been pushing forth so long,
Trying so hard to be free,
That I suppose I forgot how to be.

But… No one ever told me
That I couldn’t let go.

Except for me.

And for what?

So far I’ve lamented and grieved
But I never once concieved
A simple little notion:
What has any of it achieved?
What am I waiting for?
Someone else to open the door?
Life won’t give me anything more,
And this is what you knew
And you lived as much, too,
And to me, this is what you give:
The reason they call you festive.