towards the center we move
motivated by a single thought,
a purpose not yet fully
understood or comprehended;
our direction changes casually
like toy soldiers placed randomly
around a make-believe battlefield;
we are components,
parts of the whole that searches
for a complete solution.
An Empty Canvas
I
the darkness fills space like paint
poured over an empty canvas,
a time, quiet and peaceful,
available for thoughts not a part
of any random selection
from deep down inside somewhere,
within a surreal space
where fantasies grow and
sweet memories die,
before reality distorts truth
its compassion
its sense of belonging...
II
darkness fills the space inside my head
as perceptions become uniform,
the absence of rational thought prevails,
the clarity of sight weakens the
desire to reach back outside to
stabilize the the turmoil that has
become the threat to our existence and
the pleasures of our misguided attitudes.
In Between
an hour in between and we
face the initial attraction,
a day in between our words that
have been recorded on paper,
a month in between our feelings
carefully stored in memories,
a year in between us both and
we begin to prune the trees,
our troubles taped together with age
and our indifference becomes
all so easily tolerated now.
Moving
we move from one day to the next
from one opportunity to another
experience grows inside like embryos
reshaping our natural evolution;
each day is a self-fulfilling prophesy
prepared from broken sentences
and substituted by our trainers;
we bend with the rain
ride concave currents of silence
while despair grows like a new leaf
on a rubber tree plant on the patio,
curiosities are adopted to the
politics of the day and served like
a mixed drink and hard to swallow
but drank with an air of humility.
Futile Attempts
we overlook attempts that fall
short of unexpected feelings,
precious feelings that always
allure and secure all remaining
obstacles restraining thoughts,
constant little engines driving
our will to maintain
make sure and reinforce,
protect and maneuver all our
selfish and futile attempts that
sadly make us who we are.
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