Pulling Petals

Days pass by, and the petals

fly. In a glorious garden, life

slows down; I can now zero

in on sounds that have yet

to be heard. I look around.

I see vibrant colors and shapes.

Without thought, birds and bees

survey the land. Abundant motion

surrounds a restless soul. I see

trees dance above a strong ground.

Coexisting with each other, all forms

of life carry on with no concern.

Not asking to be born, I learn to ask

how to live a life without keeping

track of all that I lack. I ask flowers

what it feels like to be pulled, planted,

cut, watered, and given away. I pluck

a flower in the midst of April showers,

and I begin pulling petals. One by one,

under the justified sun, I start pulling

petals. “She loves me. She loves me not”.

Asking questions that go unanswered.

After another question, the flower

was naked, missing its petals. Because

of my questioning, the flower’s beauty

is missing. I destroyed something due

to me not believing. I knew that my

doubt washed all the beauty out.

I lay the flower stem on the dirt,

and I realize my questions did

nothing but cause pain and hurt.

The End of Time

We won’t see the end of time.
Our time will end before
the earth stops spinning.
Life goes on. Every right
will be left to be wronged.
Every rhythm lives on
within each timeless song.
The end of time is a sign
that is out of our sight.
The end of time will not
present itself with or without
Mother Earth and her help.
The time we have now
is now the time of the past.
There is no way to pause
as moments fly by fast.
There is no effect without
cause. Life will surround
those up and those down.
The end of time starts
when our souls depart.

Eyes of Fire

I look in the mirror and I see 
eyes of fire staring back at me. 
I feel warmth burn from within. 
There’s a fire creating heat 
that forces me to my feet. 
The ice in my veins melts away 
the second I head on my way. 
In the mirror, I see flames 
become untamed. When I turn 
around, nothing is the same. 
My eyes of fire ignite my sight. 
These eyes of fire feel right.

Rope Burns

As life gets heavier,
my grip naturally tightens.
I am playing tug of war,
and on the other side
of the rope is the fear
that I lose all hope.
I am always trying
to stay grounded when
my mind is flying.
I am trying to live
instead of thinking
of death or dying.
When I try to pull,
I feel that the hole
in my soul becomes
filled: almost full.
In this life, I tug, tug,
and tug. I attempt to
stand on top of a rug
that is being pulled
from under me. See,
these rope burns
come easy. I won’t
slip or lose my grip
until the sweet taste
of victory drips off
of my quivering lips.

Out of Control

The world is out of control.
Sharp minds become dull.
Stress can squeeze the life
out of a soul. If there is not
a light in sight, just breathe.
Keep fighting; don’t freeze.
Know you can’t change
the direction of the breeze.
Sometimes, it’s better to stay
than to walk away and leave.
People are out of control.
There are more questions
than answers. There are
more songs than dancers.
Life is like rolling some dice.
It is hard to roll the same
number twice. Each day
is another opportunity to
encounter something new,
to reach a higher view,
to get better-looking shoes.
The puppet-master has cut
the strings making things
out of control. The guy
upstairs never stopped
shaking the snow globe.
When life is out of control,
the answer finds the soul.