Live

The exacting and oft distracting realization of unforeseen necessity that stands next to me, and not in front, begs the question, and with external suggestion,"What is essential to exist?" To exist in a manner fulfilled, and utterly thrilled, by the excitement of discontent? Or is it uncovering the simple pleasures and the complex treasures of a strange, an unknown; an unforeseen variable in the Grand Scheme? I prefer the latter because a perception too focused and concerned with a philistine locus muddles the surroundings to a gray. It would be appropo to say... the colors were given away until there was a day I stepped back into the technicolor world to see the sun and admire the ocean. At which point I embraced the notion once more of enjoying the commotion while understanding all is, and will be, right with devotion. This is not a love potion... this is life. At last check, I was only given one to live, and that is exactly what I shall do.

Wayward Moon

Months have passed
And still no moon for my night
Though I understand
For though lustrous
The moon is jealous of me
His wish is for an ocean
An ocean like mine
His ocean is beautiful and blue
Much like mine; yet more inviting
His ocean is soothing indeed
Incomparable to the calm and grace of mine.
He boasts a loyal tide
A follower to his travel
If only I could share the notion
Of a tide that rolls by choice,
Never obligation.
He knows so,
Everything so; about his beloved ocean
Her abyss
Her treasures
Life
Oh, how I pity
For he cannot enjoy discovery
Quite as I can
Of your ocean, dear Moon
I am insignificant,
She slips through my fingers
And her touch is cold
I understand the jealousy
My friend.
I would be jealous, too.