The Chosen One

You are the chosen one.
You are the burning sun
that lights up the sky.
You are the birds singing:
the sunflowers springing.
You are the love the world
desperately needs. You are,
by far, the most important
one to me and everyone
else. You know how to help
others that don’t know how
to help themselves. You are
beautiful like a naked smile.
You are sweet like honey
and crisp like new money.
You are the chosen one.
It was pretty easy to choose
you because you turn grey
skies blue. I knew to choose
you, and luckily for me,
you knew to choose me, too.


Memento

Today will be just another
day. In a few days, today
will be the past: a shadow
once cast. Remnants
seem to last and remain
the same like a flame
that burns away dark
times. Every single life
is chalk-full of moments
and mementos: highs
and lows: days and nights:
ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.
Thus, today I will be
able to see memories
that have never left me.
Wherever I decide to go,
mementos will remind
me of who I was and who
I strive to be. Really,
they seem to set me free.

The Final Stage

The final stage is in range.
The blood, sweat, and tears
were sincere. The highs
and lows that I felt
were never in vain.
I push off the shore into
the final stage. My boat
floats without resistance
toward a solitary island
in the distance. Onward,
I go: it’s coming to a close.
The final stage is where
I must be. There’s a final
boss that I must beat.
The last, final stage
will be the best one
I will have played
in this fateful game.



The Perfect Storm

It’s been raining
for months –
If I said I was dry,
I would have to lie.
The wind has been
blowing prior to me
knowing. People
misplaced. Problems
faced. Dreams chased.
Memories erased.
The perfect storm
is brewing. No shelter
can protect you or me.
We will have to see
what it means
to be caught between
life, nightmares, and
dreams. We are the
eyes of this perfect
storm. Together, we
form chaos and grace
in a world we face.
Rage and elegance:
hell bound and heaven
sent. All we can do
is watch our perfect
storm take shape
and hope we can
enjoy the rain
soaking our brains.

Seeds of Solitude

Many plant seeds. Some don’t.
Some don’t have any soil.
Some don’t have any seeds.
Some don’t have what they
need. You can’t plant seeds
that you don’t have. Seeds
seem to believe they are
something that can grow.
More than we know, seeds
will sprout and will be out
and about. We must work
together to plant many seeds
of love – seeds of solitude.
Let’s share our soil as there
is plenty of room to bloom.