Category: Passion Project

I hope when we meet again 
You can see a mecca
I have made in myself
A road
I have paved myself
Trees I have planted
And kept alive
Myself

By being myself

I hope when we meet again
You can be proud of the
Documents
I have collected in my speech 
Essays
That reflect in my skin
So many words
I have pieced together
That you can see me glowing

Maybe it’s the lighting

Or the lighting in me
That dissipated
Never quite gone
Just spread apart
As if galaxies were waving to distant friends
Not blinding
But merely expanding

Growing

Growing to where
I can finally see past
The vines
That held me back
For so long

I guess when we meet again
You can build thoughts of me
For yourself
And I’d hope they have changed

But it’s not to you
What I am
I guess I shouldn’t mind
The status of me
In the mind of you
In the mind of anyone

I finally fit
In this body
And want to share

Whenever we meet again

I feel as if I am the space between two
A gap in the fabric sewn
Traveling a road
With traits I didn’t choose
What an embedded
Breath
We have been searching for substance 
Looking for what was promised

It’s a sudden tap on a window
You see

A bomb in a birdcage
And the brief absence
Of a conscious mind
On repeat

Stitch me one by one
Push me out to sea
As I walk among tripwires of the mind
I will count away the bursts
In the square formation
Taught to me

Wandering
Wasting
The rise I am given

In an instant
Like a crack in thinning ice
I am flung into a time I had since stored away
A hidden file in my mind
Playing
Mimicking a younger self
Scratched
Shrugged
Grazing the surface of a time past
Not quite as clear
But still so crisp
That you could hear the sweet lyrics
Which were so comforting once before

Suddenly I am dancing with a previous ego
And I watch her fade away
Analyzing this time and the next
A dull ache creeps into my stomach
Seeing this younger me
My heart stays there
And becomes heavy

Just like sticky honey
With a soft residue
It leaves a mark
A dent in the wall
A crack on a screen

Again
And again

As open jars are shattered across a glass floor
They reflect a stronger
And nostalgic mind

If you choose to stare back
You can see a previous life
Fly by as quick as it arrived

I look at the feathers
Of a grey dove
The way it shines
In unadulterated light
How soft it would be to the touch
The way she floats on nothing
But her own pure will

I look at the sky and its shades
At different sections of day
Or to count how many clouds
With shining eyes

How did this come to be?
What do I dare to know?

What can I know?