Who will harmonize with my lonely voice? Spliced up and spiced up with the hopeful possibility that perhaps we are all intertwined beneath our bones and beyond our veins like wavelengths that twist and turn and churn into cobwebs of energetic synergy. Yes. I hope we are all connected.
I feel the breath of a phantom lover upon my neck each night before I go to bed. Is he or she a ghost? Why do I associate this breath with love? Could it possibly be the air of my ancestors breathing upon me and urging me to stay alive and vibrant because my work here is not done? Or could it be the breath of lonely spirits who just want to snuggle, knowing that I offer my arms with warmth and gentle kindness? Or is it the steady grace of the divinity that permeates within and without this world? Breathing life and sustaining life as the sun sustains our growing land while icicles melt and drift into the sand? Yes. Life is surely sustained. So whatever that breath upon me may be, I invite it because it sustains me. And while murky motions of light mimic the movement of melodies that steadily sedate the otherwise sorrowful sadness that occasionally roams freely within my mind, I invite you in, oh breath, upon me. I welcome you to steady me. I allow you to drift me into a stream that indefinitely anchors my life towards sights and sounds of love.
Where did you go? Will you ever come back?
What is the reason for this lonesome day gone black?
Now what shall I do?
Who will I tell my secrets to?
Who shall I kiss goodnight?
Who will hold me when I wake up cold and filled with fright?
Who shall I whisper fairytales to while walking hand in hand beneath a bridge below the sea?
Do you hear me?
Have you faded, perhaps?
Have you become one with the air?
Are you the looming breeze that drifts coaxingly upon a maiden's hair?
Are you the one who breathes upon my neck as I fall to sleep?
Or perhaps you caress the tips of my fingers as I tap each key soft and rhythmically?
Maybe you have been strung and now are the strings that I pluck.
Or, with some luck, perhaps you are the water I sip.
I press you to my lips and I swirl you into my mouth.
You tickle my tongue and you give me my strength.
You soothe my palette.
You blend my colors.
You may have left.
But you are not gone.
I am indulging in my infinite insignificance.
My idle arms are free.
I am tickled by the merry wisps of momentary gratification.
But I am consumed with an engulfing bottomless pit of gratitude.
I am enriched endlessly, unceasingly, and earnestly.
Once I was a kitty.
Now I've turned into toothpaste.
Ex-purr mint.
I am experimenting.
I had opportunities, but they turned.
They became awkward attempts to tune in.
Now I am strangely turning.
I am becoming a strong wind.
I am experimenting.
So catch me.
Go ahead and try.
I might just let you hold me.
But not for very long,
Because soon enough, I will and must be gone.
It's like a flash flood of a song.
A song that fills up your lungs with stretched out longing notes.
That's then streamed up and out-- live.
So you must dive and exhale.
Let that flood turn to air.
Vaporize my words.
Hear me.
I am alive.
Never dead.
Just meandering in melodious movements from the tip tops of the trees.
I gotta release and be freed with ease.
The clouds created makeshift eyelids upon the sun.
So before he was even ready to be done with the day,
They, the clouds, with their makeshift eyelids, forced the sun to say goodnight.
And that was when the tears came.
Drip by drip.
The water fell.
The sun was not ready to sleep.
The sun still had energy to play.
But the clouds were eager to welcome the night.
And forced the sun to say goodnight.
That was when the tears came.
Drip by drip.
The sun tried to fight the clouds.
The sun wanted to stay.
The sun wanted to play.
So that was when the lightening came.
Burst of light shone forth from the clouds,
Echoing the sun's efforts to show that he still had energy.
He was still there.
He had not left and did not disappear.
But the clouds disagreed and shut him out.
And that was when the tears came.
Drip by drip.
A sad sun.
He poured his wishes upon us.
Reminding us that he still had energy to play.
You consume them with malnutrition to preserve your feasting ploys for destruction.
Tell me, where do you think you're going?
You force them to take daily dosages of premature manipulations fathered from your treacherous tubes of liquidation.
Your joys and toys are their struggles.
You laugh and giggle while they weep for their unfed babies.
These are babies who have no name or face to you.
You suffocate the innocent with your avarice.
Have you no soul?
Have you no empathy?
Have you no sense of shame?
No.
It is all a mere game to you.
You must keep your scoreboard high to preserve your rank and name.
It is a disgrace that you turn and say it is them of whom I ought to blame.
They are ignorant?
They are barbarians?
You have imprisoned them in such shallow caves.
Your corruption breeds horror,
So wake up citizens, it's time to be brave.
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