Flicker

Love doesn’t have to die. Don’t let
your light fade. Even if it flickers,
it’s still progress made. Think of
the steps you took. Look around.
Stay strong. Your light will shine,
or at least, glow. Love will grow.
I could be wrong, but who knows?
Allow the fire, from within, to burn
away any hate left on your plate.
Unleash the beast. Remove the leash.
Don’t lose that pep in your step.
Moving forward is your best bet.
Don’t rest until you feel your best.
Stay in the fight. You’re doing great.
Let your light illuminate the sky
before, during, and after the sunrise.

Bombs Away

My finger is on the button.
Let me know when to press
it. One finger can change
everything. A single bomb,
when inside its proximity,
causes utter dysfunction
due to its mass destruction.
Leaving nothing but rubble,
a bomb will cause trouble.
When there is nothing left
but fragments of the past,
a thriving history surely
will not last. After a blast,
the surviving buildings
are just sad shadows cast.
Tell me when. I’ll press it.
When it is pressed, know
that’s when war begins
as peace is put to rest.



The Air Between

I look up and breathe.
Both my eyes close
as I exhale. I see you
take a breath after
I take mine. The air
between us thickens.
The energy flowing
means that tension
is growing. The air
between you and I
forms an invisible
wall – one too small
to see through. The air
between us dances
back and forth.
Recycled over again,
the air between us
is more than a gust.
The air between us
knocks off the rust.
It shakes off the dust.
I look up and breathe.
I smile and take in
the air that we share.

A Closed Book

Each day, an old book closes. The story
is finished; the pen runs dry. Each page
is filled with a bunch of smaller stories:
memories: words that echo through
the skulls of its reader. One day,
the story we are navigating through
will expire as we retire – as the fire
dies – souls will fly into open skies.
Lies will become truths. Rough will
become smooth. Old age will become
youth. We are the characters inside
an open book that will, one day,
be closed – to be open once again
by a different pair of hands.
Until the book closes, look closer
at the plot and decide your ending:
one better than you ever thought.
Keep writing your story. Make it
a good one. We are still writing;
let’s make a book that someone
would want to pick up and read:
a plant grown from a small seed.

Beneath the Sea

Sailors, fish, and ships
dance and sing beneath
the sea. All that sunk
now resides beside
a rushing tide. Far
beneath the sea.
Sailors, fish, and ships
have ended their trips.
Many have been put
to rest after completing
their quest. Life roams
free beneath the sea.
We cannot see beyond
the reef. Sailors, fish,
and ships are at ease
beneath the sea.