The Day is Night

Then take your suicide! Do it else the light of the day and swarm of the angels should come down, and holy fire will sanctify your life with light!

But then, you do not dare I see, you dare not take the last remains of your cowardliness and complaining to the ends of its meaning: then it is clear to me that you lack conviction even in your own words!

You wriggle about and mock life for its unfailing nature and hardiness, all the while still clinging, still holding onto the glimmer of light that douses your dreams at night with illusions of reckoning!

But to which side do you hold to then? For it cannot be that life is hard yet also holds reckoning? Is it in your own mind again that you have separated what cannot be separated?

Then you see, it is your lot to uphold both, and in each take its due course while in wait for the next bout of the cycle. So cast aside your longing eyes! Because in the dark you’ll wish for sunlight, and in the sunlight wish for dark! But why not laugh when the sun is gone, and rejoice when the hour has come, and the night has faded and the day has faded, and all that’s left is what you’ve become.

Who

you speak but you do not know where
you hear but you cannot listen
you walk about the air and still you cannot shine because you are unwise and do not know what is in your mind
when you turn to grievances and you look to see if there’s no more remorse
you cannot hear that the angels cry and there is another life

when words have filled the country and the men no longer take to mourning
when the women start to cry but do not know what their tears are holding
when everything is always lies but never speaking truth that hides in eager eyes
that is what will take me to buried treasures that hides under the ocean tides
when words are meaningless and we do not know what to make of them

that is why we have been told
that sleepless nights don’t amount to gold
that though the sun must shine and birds must fly
never has the air been so burnt and dry
that is why our hearts conceal and our minds are lost and cannot see

never has there been a time like this
never has there been a sickness spread so thick
never has there been a such a man
who in his selfishness digs his own rotten lies
never has there been a life that takes its own life and calls it pride

when you turn to grievances and you look to see if there’s no more remorse
that is what will take me to buried treasures that hides under the ocean tides
never has the air been so burnt and dry
who in his selfishness digs his own rotten lies
and all that’s heard is a mirror’s cry.

Life

If you took each man and women, and lined them up next to their graves
And asked them then, what would they say?

Well, for most they’ll probably take to denying and crying
Saying why have you brought me here, and when can we leave?

And you’ll see for most then, they’ll take to escaping
And denying to answer, anything of value.

Still others will look at their grave
And take to looking at it in dismay

They’ll take to thinking
But never enough to find an answer

So they too will eventually falter
and return to their ways.

Some men perhaps will take to crying
And to these I think, there’s more Truth left than not

For perhaps they see something that is worth crying
Or else they’ve thought just now, that time is what’s dying.

But we are mortal, weak humans whom roam this Earth
And we cannot bear to stand when we’d rather be hurt

Stagnant to the last, painful to every grasp
But still we will not move, else we start causing our own pain.

But what is pain to a man who is already dead?
And what is grief to a man who’s laid to rest?

Ample time has been allotted to each and every one.
And to figure out a way to spend is required of all living beings.

So stare at your grave to contemplate madness
But then look at your present and think not of what’s after

Just take the feeling that comes from the grave
And pour your heart into doing what’s opposite of that place.

Then maybe some men and women will have nothing to say
But will simply turn, and start walking away.

Truth

SPEAK you devil! Who can’t see without facts and insights
Who dares to look
But never see, through human eyes
The wants and feelings,
The fears and sensations
That is trying to be communicated, not through words, but tone…

So redeem yourself! Cast away your longing for Truth and certainty, insight and facts!
Find within yourself the will to see the desperate desire of each human to communicate… but lacking the words can only give you a sense, a fragment, a feeling of Truth.

thought

To run
you must first learn to walk.

To walk
you must first learn to crawl.

To crawl,
you must first be taught.

To teach,
you must first learn to be taught.

To be taught… first think of the teacher.
Then ask yourself, what do they know that I don’t?

So to be happy
you must first learn to think properly.

To think properly
you must first learn to think improperly.

To think improperly
you must first allow yourself to think.

To think,
you must first listen to your thoughts.

To listen to your thoughts… first sit and be still.
Then ask yourself, what am I thinking that others aren’t?

Road to Heaven

They say the road to hell is covered in oil
That way when you reach the gates of heaven they can set it on fire.

They’ll burn your soul just before you open the gates,
and see inside for yourself what there was to taste.

And then you’ll be reborn on Earth
and left to suffering and pain in whichever form.

But it’s always the same form:

It’s the pain and suffering of seeing heaven’s gate
being led up each stair step by step
being told that though you were destined for hell
but Heaven hath given you a second chance

And what joy would have been given to this man or woman
and what relief would have overwhelmed their spirit
and what compassion would have arose
from perhaps even the most decrepit soul.

But justice has overwhelmed mercy
and you know how the story goes…

Upon touching those pearly gates
the road to heaven is set on fire, along with your soul.

So back to Earth you go
Perhaps never knowing this…

But every hour you feel
that somehow you’ve done something wrong, especially, to have deserved this.

The River

Wherever the mind wanders,
like water it takes the easiest path.

But just because a river flows
doesn’t mean it’s the shortest, best, or truest path.

When we see a river…
or waterfall, stream, or flowing water
we know we can’t move the water with our hands.

We must dig a path, create a space, or provide a cup
somehow indirectly, we provide a place for the water to go
and very naturally it continues to flow.

But a man must work for many hours to dig a space for a lake
Or create a trench where a river can grow
And just like our thoughts
our attempts at re-directing it can always go terribly slow.

But hour by hour, day by day
with continual effort the river begins to create a fork in the road
until finally the day will come
when one riverbed dries up and the other one flows.

So it is often that I have seen people try
to escape the labyrinth river of their thoughts:
those images of shattered windows and burning houses
or shooting people and murdering spouses
jumping out in front of cars…

or death by a million small lashes
weeping, misery, cold-alone in a barren room
shouting, yelling, anger, at the grievances of the world
outrage contempt, jealousy in the fragile heart
and empty, walking, tired, through the concrete Earth…

when it would be easier instead
to simply redirect and build
a new maze and line it with flowers
just dig a path
create a space
and work the hours that will let a new river grow.

And so it seems that many of us have these thoughts
and to each of us a choice to make
of what thoughts we’d like to change…
for the lonely man who strikes a smile when he walks alone
for the saddest orphan who loves all others despite his remorse
for the unappreciated mother who bears her family’s pain
for the saints that continue on when the world won’t change…

when anger, rage, and all-consuming fire fills their minds
or wicked, terrible, murderous thoughts towards others fire
when love and faith are too far gone
and being normal is all you want
when every moment death reminds
that everyone you love will be killed off soon
when things could take a better turn
but reality says that’s just absurd…

it’s here I see these kindred souls
who let not their thoughts stop them from their hard work
it’s they that choose to follow faith
and continue on despite the worst of days
though weary and beat and awful thoughts remain
a solemn decree to work alone each day
to dig a path, create a space
for their thoughts await a shining day
when love and grace is the river they’ve made.