Behind an Open Door


If only tomorrow would fail to come
And this burden from her chest were lifted,
There was no end, this day were simply done,
This were the number of her days gifted.
There was sleep she sought, and the sleep sought her,
Flattering, that the void felt incomplete.
Eternity and nothing now a blur,
Like the moment a dog dies in the street.
She sits there and thinks and opens her eyes,
And stares at the next soul who might save hers.
So many moments, this too passes by,
What if she’s made to go on as a curse?
Unique. Never again, never before,
She tries to hide behind an open door.

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The Moral of the Story Is

Sit in shadow,
Bathed by the light.
Wonder where to go,
Preparing to take flight.
I’ve nothing to take with me,
I’ve nothing to leave behind,
Naked into the world I enter,
And naked I leave it in kind.
I am solemn in the dark,
I’ll live and love what’s best,
Who’s to say what’s what?
Do you know the qualifying test?

Looking for the Sun

Looking for the sun,
In the sand and dust and waste.
What shall lift the fog?

Learning

I am the gate to wisdom,
I am knowings door.
I am a ship left stranded
On a distant forgotten shore.
I contain all knowledge, yet abandoned,
I am a rock on which to moor.
Certainly a burden,
But a cure to ignorance and fear.
Ignorance or I?
Who shall first disappear?

The Plight of Penguins


Aimlessly we are marching towards the sea.
Forcing luck, we say we’re bound to blue skies.
We’re told there’s no ocean to hear our plea,
Vehemently we strain our wings to fly.
Skies above: the opposite of shelter.
What’s left blue, now grey; a common constant.
“At least no rain!” says snow in mock laughter.
We gather against the raging onset.
A killing edge formed between tide and shore.
We are many swallowed and few returned.
They are waiting for us, whom we adore,
There are mistakes some fear we can’t unlearn.
In spite of our current plight, we press on,
Surviving each day till the next new dawn.

As Searchings Go


The searching’s slow,
As searchings go.
Moonrise does naught to slow
The ebb and flow
When one fails to find
What the shore has left behind.
Though who leaves who
When the waves leave first
And the shore remains to question you.
Alas the land that never goes
Here I stand and I shall see
If the sand shall go before me.
When washed away with the tide, we,
Become who we’re meant to be
And swimming back through the storm
To discover ourseleves waiting ashore.

Pawn

One or two forward,
Can’t move as far as others,
And become the best.