Burning
A Gentle Stirring*
In words it can be a rough start
We are all different
Time can get impatient
There is a gentle stirring*
That comes in our heart
But you feel the honey bee sting
When we fall apart start jogging
A gentle stirring-yearning-burning
World around us is always turning
Body and soul loving/missing/gathering
Observing/sitting with a cup of coffee
Why do some people get
what they want and others fail to see the
Godly- light what are we truly lacking
Clean slate stacking- we need
Power talking conquering to see
The world but wondering what will be?
Sitting Hearts
We sat like strangers
The largest valley
Between two mountains
A slow deep breath
A back yard alley
A passage of soft hearts
Like a flower, bloom
A twisting refining notion
That the foliage within
Never dwindles among men
So with the silence; bound
There are countless
Verses unspoken
A slow deep look
A burning mess
A road of genuine hearts
Like a flower, bloom
A twisting refining notion
That the foliage within
Never dwindles among men
We sat like strangers
The largest illusion
Among the world
A soundless adoration
A grand prelusion
A path of rebel hearts
Like a flower, bloom
A twisting refining notion
That the foliage within
Never dwindles among men
Many Burning Candles
"The Demons of Man"
I fabricate skyscrapers, piercing the heavens with chrome blades.
I see a world of fire: combusting, incinerating, devouring.
Silence.
The valleys burn red with blood stained spades,
The universe watching discreetly, towering.
Violence.
The demons of man ignite the skylines as day bleeds to night,
The structures emitting a silent roar as the stars lay breathless.
Destruction.
The avenues inhale kerosene, reflecting red light,
The cities burn to ash, dying, defenseless.
Reduction.
As the aggregation of starlight coats our landscape with a luminous glare,
The ruins of a million memories electrify the skies.
Dissolving.
The fires burn out as the moon is relieved of its empowering stare,
The once amplified street pinned under its arbitrary demise.
Devolving.
Once upon a time, when man walked with man,
I stared in the eyes of a world worth living.
Perfection.
I watched as it twisted, tore, became a cancerous scan;
Mankind destroying itself, relentless, unforgiving.
Deception.
As I walk under a sun that illuminates a planet encased in sorrow,
Tears fall parallel to light rays.
As clouds float in a boundless ocean, awaiting tomorrow,
I continue roaming, a stranger, in a world astray.
Perfection
Perfection doesn't always last.
We may wish it did,
but that's not how life works.
It's like a wick burning outside.
So luminescent,
so pure.
As life goes on,
the winds pick up,
unexpected changes occur.
Might go out,
might not.
Just Depends how strong it is.