On the night I danced atop raindrop graves inviting the skies to strike me down, my discarded heart struggled to pace my legs as I twirled to the cadence of thunder. I offered a silent plea to any willing god who’d expunge from me, the damnation of passion forlorn. For my tireless wings had lost their wind making a heartless tomorrow seem inescapable. I yearned to die if living without love was to be my fate. So, I kicked the puddles filling with heaven’s tears flouncing my native dance to mock the storm. My untamed arms flailed the arrogance of a youth’s bravado enticing the pain to be relieved by a single strike. My eyelids fell to meet the end as Zion’s reprisal cut through the shroud of darkness with a firebolt, yet it spared my life leaving me dumbfounded and enraged. I opened my eyes to the stir of birds vacating their limbed perches as they scattered across the horizon anticipating an aftershock—The very rhythm I had been dancing to all night. I continued on like it never happened poking at the growling beast above until…BOOM! With a sudden flash, a message revealed itself atop the grand clock tower—The silhouette of you. You watched over me with an enrapt beauty, and all this time I thought I was alone. My skin flushed without warning, and I no longer beckoned for death’s embrace, but instead sought the passion cemented in your eyes. It was then I longed to receive the warmth retained deep inside your heart and upon meeting each other’s gaze I knew we would chase the shadows of dreams no more—We would live them.

Put a stone in my shoe,

walk a mile or two

and let the cold air brace me,

take me far from nothing

to something else entirely.

And the sun shines in uncovered eyes

my breath takes on it's own life

burning muscles tear against the ground

somehow I'm running and chasing the clouds.

Wind up bleeding, breathing hard

and the feet are in pain, there's a dagger in my heart

and somehow I'm suffering all over again

found through the pain, and grounded again.

Clinging on to life, precious blood and movement

even in routine there can be sanctification

somehow all roads lead to home

and the fire in the sky guides my walk by night

as I hold on to that which rends me and

lends me a perspective that I hope to understand.

When you're living still there is no loss that can take you

until the time comes to go over that final hill

and be acquainted with the maker.

Oh, the faith it takes to live that way,

and the trust that comes with answers

undeniable guideposts and bring purpose to pain

so we only suffer shortly.

We will only suffer shortly.

Use your blade shaped with vowels,

to cut me deep through the vein.

Hang your noose made of verbs,

So, I may cross over that plane.

Kill me with your story,

Then bring me to life with your words.

Stitch me back up,

only to tear me apart from the herd.

Let me read one more saga,

and begin where I did start.

Let me feel what you felt,

When you wrote these pages from your heart.

There is

a mountaintop,

haven for the mind

Snowy peaks

reflective rockface

It is mine,

and mine alone

It was something I never looked inside, but something I always saw with her, until a few years ago. It was a forbidden object that only a pen in her hand was allowed to add to. It was a container of peace and security for her. It was a black book that seemed more precious to her than all of the treasures that are buried under the layers of the earth.

I never had access to it until a few years ago. I have never dreamt of not opening it until a few years ago. I would never have wished to know its contents if it was a desire that I could trade with a longer life for her. I would have never wanted to read the black book if it meant that she would remain for beyond her ten years.

She was a treasure who treasured everything. She was a person who wished to know more. She was a girl who wanted to achieve. She was a sister who died too early.

Today is a day of making peace with the past. Today is a day to let her go and only keep her memory. Today is the day to open that door of her room and pack her belongings which has been gathering dust for four years. Today is the day of looking at her precious objects, reading the letters addressed to her, and opening her black book.

Her black book is filled with secrets that she knew. Her black book is filled with symbols she understood. Her black book is filled with stories that have been locked with a key that she had always kept to herself. Her black book is the book that contains inscriptions that she could decipher.

Some things will always be buried in the attic. Some people will always be buried in our memories. Some past times will always be buried for remembrance. This black book, her black book, will always be buried in my collection of memories of my sister's short life.

In the physical world, however, it will spend the rest of its existence in a box marred with tears.

People scare me

People scare me because

there's always a part of us

ready to listen to and follow through with evil

People scare me because

people talk

even when they don't listen

People scare me because

people try to empathize

when they should only listen

People scare me because

people try to understand

when they couldn't possibly ever get it

People scare me because

people listen

then make you a cautionary tale or an example

People scare me

so when I'm lost

I crawl into my head because

better the devil you know

right?

In my head,

I turn to music

and poetry

I turn to that other part of me

that wants to heal

and I speak to her

like I would speak to people.

I can't remember where I was supposed to go.

A map would have been nice, if such a map existed.

Maybe I'll be lost here, forever searching for an exit that doesn't exist.

Many people have disappeared before, but not like this.

I'm not even sure anyone would ever understand my experience.

Sometimes I consider no longer searching for an imaginary exit.

So I go to the one place that keeps me safe in this void.

I call it the Risk, and to most people it may sound dangerous.

Names can be deceiving, however.

Good thing that Risk leads to reward, and eventually, I will make an exit.

In the dusty dark night,

When everything is out of sight,

As you wander your way,

Where do you stay?

In the light of the day,

Is there something to be gained?

A life to sustain,

What is your guide?

Or must you hide?

When around the next bend,

Is where sanity ends.

Or then are you safe?

In its lonely embrace?

What is the cost?

To no longer be lost.

When I'm feeling lost I go "to my world of making it happen."To explain this I mean I take my mind to places that I am familiar with. The Prose is a family of geniuses that I feel totally comfortable with. I can express myself without trying to be someone I'm not. Coin collecting I love because there are so many errors on coins that people know nothing about. Working on my books settles my mind because I set myself a deadline to finish them.

When I'm feeling lost I go "to my world of making it happen." To explain this I mean I take my mind to places that I am familiar with. The Prose is a family of geniuses that I feel totally comfortable with. I can express myself without trying to be someone I'm not. Coin collecting I love because there are so many errors on coins that people know nothing about. Working on my books settles my mind because I set myself a deadline to finish them.

I often find myself riding out to help those that I know need the help. My mind is so busy.

When I'm lost, I'm lost to myself

Sinking into my problems

Ominously.

When I'm lost, I'm lost to everyone

Blending into the walls, my breath joins the air

Unnoticeably.

When I'm lost, I'm lost to all remedies

Naysaying every answer

Downtroddenly.

When I'm lost, I'm not found

Until I can stand out

Emergently.

When I'm found, I am

Non-sinking, -blending, or -saying

Resuscitatedly.

When I'm found, I transition

To auspicious-, noticabl-, emergent-, reviving-

Heroic-ly.