Poetry

If I break my
Thought into tinted
Drops of lines
And speak of leaves
Brittle and aged
That long ago fell
From the mouth of
A thoughtless soul
Reprieving it of life
With one last breath;

If that breath were
Captured or
Encapsulated in silence,


Separated,

By monotone colors,
By forms and shapes,
By empty structures,
By pride and vanity;


If that breath
Was made to breathe again,
Given form,
Given breadth,
Would it be art?

Or merely an attempt to
Label meaningless fragmentation
As knowledgeable beauty

Shadow dancer
Catch me up with you
Leaping through the Air
Carry me with you
Arms stretched to the sky
I can let go
Face upturned to the sky
I can see the sun
Lithe form graceful and complete
I can evolve
Moving across form and time
I can transcend
To cast your shadow
To become whole
Across everything in your path
Don’t leave me behind
You touch everything
I touch nothing
Become everything
I am nothing
Ever fluid
Trembling hands
Ever sure
Stumbling feet
Unafraid of stranger ground
I’ll stay on the line
Unafraid of rolling waters
I’ll walk beside the shore
You jump
I stand
You swim
I watch
You fly
I weep

fragile bones

sturdy ivory bones
the frame that I am wrapped around
but this skin is heavy
and my soul a deadweight
pulling and pushing these bones around

Shoving a path before these bones
Allowing a place for these bones to dwell
Only to blister and break
These fragile bones

Every shock, every tremor
Reverberates in these bones
These fragile bones
How they ache with time
How they die with time

The eyes fall shut
The brain spills forth from its home
And hands form fists that struggle against
These bones
But these bones
These fragile bones
Hold it all together

Slowly relaxing heavy eyelids
Carefully scooping up fallen brain
Unclenching fists
And setting feet back
Into trembling motion

But these bones
These fragile bones
Are ready for rest
And this soul is heavy
Ready to pin them down

Hungry

"when my soul starts growing, it's gets so hungry, I wish it never would stop growing"

I've had that song running through my head all week as I wrap up my year of school. When my soul starts growing. I like that idea. I like to picture a growing soul. We refer to people as having an "old soul," but I hope I am never an old soul. I hope I'm always hungry.

I want to be an alchemist. I want to be a person who takes the ordinary things in life and transforms them into something meaningful. Is that not what life is about? About taking the ordinary and making it valuable and in that process or participation becoming transformed oneself. Participation in life mixed with the ideals of working for something more. Knowledge and action.
My soul has been hungry. I can feel it. And it feels so good to be growing again.

Check out the song: Ponytail by Panda Bear