Willing

Willing a phone to ring is like willing the sky to part. The longer you stare, the more you see that all there is.. is air.
Willing is like wanting, only more like haunting.
Wanting is something that we all know very well.
But it always leave me thinking that it much like calling hell.
Its good for some fun and eat up time.
I just wish I knew why, I wish the wanting was mine.
It controls me, it holds me, do I have any say?
I'd want something better, something that'd stay.
When will I ever learn, some things stay true.
True to nature, you stay true to you.
I can change that no matter the willing.
I just wish this heart you'd stop killing.

I guess I need to learn to let go.
I forgive you. I do. I love you, now go. Please. Stay or forever go.

A flower

I once was bleeding, but a flower lead me away from my self inposed pain. You can still bring it so quickly, with just a word, or a kindness. But the time of pain is ended. I declare it here and now. Nu will only bring me fond smiles. You are not for me, my dear, but thats okay.
Love always, never stop looking..
And the flowers sing, and love rules all.

Fragments of joy

How can something so deeply covered in fog be so warm in my mind?
It was a great time, but what I glows strongest of all is a caring touch. Someone cared. I dont even know who it was. White with red triangles and blue dots. Green lines and roseytan legs. I wonder who that was? I can tell you who I wanted it to be. Do dreams come true? It may never come to me, because i wasnt even there myself. I wonder who I was... I said so much, just talk talk talk, sometimes I wonder at how much I changed.
Im not even to happy about it. But im just happy today. Fragments of joy and a big green monster.

The goodbyes

Its the goodbyes that we say and hear that remind us that were alive. I dont know if I agree with that, but it somehow just rings true. Its good to say and good to hear, but its the hellos that fill me with a thrill and a shudder. Lately its been a lot of goodbyes. But not the one I feel like I need to say most.
But I think its time, these goodbyes may lead to the golden hello. The world is so big, so very big. The sea streaches to a lost horizion and deeper then the mind can probe. The sea is large indeed. But you need bait to fish a good line. Bait.
A strange way to look at my life, but a not incorrect one.

City of…

Angels. I never really thought about how they never really leave us. Even at night, they watch down on us with blinking eyes. Green and red and white, again and again the white. Looking, searching. They are dark things, but gentle. Always looking, always finding us when we are weak.
When our thoughts are inward bound, when we are at play, when were at rest. They are quick minded, slipping around our slow perseption like a stalking cat. Quick and quiet they find us, just for a moment they touch us.
In the daylight they spread their wings and blanket miles with their soft, ghostly caress. They are flashy and bright, proud and noble. But also aloof. They cant be your friend, the light ones. The nightbirds are like sisters. The daybirds like kings. Which path is the better?
I guess we'll just have to wait and see. But I can say I have little use for kings.

Light my eyes.

The leaves sit on the trees and wait oh so. Its a slow and quiet change, not like that of the north where its big and loud in its painfuly quiet emptyness. Here its waiting, until one day, when all the leaves just know its time. Some hold on, some fight it, but others are ready to move with the wind. And it comes and sweeps at the trees like fates hand.
Its a week of change. Its a week of celebration. Its a week of death, and of life, a week of starting and ending. Above in the clearest sky in an age, the lights of heaven gaze down.
What do they think of what they see? We are so conflicted down on our little patches of green night. So conflicted, and so sublime. So much gace, so many tears. How quickly our time passes, but how brightly our candles burn.
Which moves faster through a crowd of milling souls? A laugh and a smile of sweet joy? A yawn and a shrug form the tired and the careless? Sickness at a poor soul loseing his lunch? Or the tears of a weeping girl? Each will rage through us like a firestorm. What burns brightest in us? What would this say about us if we knew?
Its not for us to say, I think. Just as the man who stands accused of a crime can't stand on his own befalf, we are to close to this thing called life. Our view is small and our blindfolds strongly knoted.
I hope the stars are watching, I hope that someone is high enough in the brittle glass night to see and be glad.
Can you even imagne what that would look like? We shine so brightly on our shadowed disk, it would be a wonder if anyone ever found us at all. We glow like the stars around us.

Sunlight.

Its always so busy, yet so peaceful. Look up and there are airplanes crusing past, silent and graceful. Look down and cars flow, or dont, but their always around. Its strange, I just realized that its a bit odd to take comfort from these things like some people take comfort from a empty forest, a babbling brook. But I guess its all in what you grow up with.
The sunsets are just as perfect here in the endless burbs, and just as peaceful to those who populate them.
I dont see the milling mass as people inside thier little shells. I dont know if I actually see the people I see on the street ether. Symbols, little else. We pass, our eyes downcast. Were so compartmentilized these days. Layers and layers of shells.
They, at least, are transucent. If I could be like sunlight I could pass through them freely and touch peoples lives as easily as the breeze.
Or are these bubbles made of soap and hope? Sometimes you just cant tell how strong something is until you give it a little tap. Will it pop like a cold bubble?