Drown

If you were an anvil,
and I drowning,
I'd embrace you, kiss the water
And welcome the cold dark.

Every time it is harder to awaken
My rage,my happiness or my disgust.
Like a wick lit too often,
Crumbling to ash and growing shorter.

When the flames go out it isn't over,
Not even if no coals remain to smoulder.
The stains of this ash shall ever remain,
A darkness for lost light.

No matter how hard we try,
No matter how far we fly,
We ever have baggage pulling us lower.
Whatever we say - it isn't over.

Build another fire if you will,
But pick another spot I say.
Any light you build here will,
Be marred by the darkness of memory.

You may change whoever you were,
Hide all signs of that unwanted stranger.
But under the sediment,those layers of dust,
You know lie the fossils of what we were.

No matter how hard we may try,
No matter how far we fly,
We ever have baggage pulling us lower.
Whatever we do - it isn't over.

And frozen in another realm,
Our old selves may stay.
No more than phantoms in our thoughts.
Perhaps even those may be erased.

But the blows we gave each other have shaped us,
We have been burnt by our mistakes.
And unless you forget the past to be burnt again,
Never shall you be rid of me.

No matter how hard we try,
No matter how far we fly,
We ever have baggage pulling us lower.
Whatever we think - it isn't over.

I don't know what paths lead from here,
Or if I have the will to walk.
I feel like a wineskin drained - bitter dregs all that remain.
Unknowing if I shall hold sweet intoxication again.

We may part company,
Never see one another again.
Or later converge,
Maybe together remain.

But no matter how hard we try
And no matter how far we fly,
We ever have baggage pulling us lower.
And wherever we roam - it isn't over

Familiarity

Contempt I hear by habit is spawned,
When every flaw seems larger than life,
But there stops not the tragedy dawned,
For there is an investment even in strife.

That particular road ends in indifference,
When wonders are invisible even in sight.
When we take for granted and in sufferance,
What another would see as a miracle in light.

The breeze we notice only in a calm,
The scent of a flower only in a midden;
Only with a bruise we feel the balm,
And admire beauty after it is hidden.

What leads us to assume grace everlasting,
When the world about us may tumble?
Our fate is as the die for casting,
The ground may at any time make us stumble.

But against nature is not worst this sin,
For she is moulded true,
Always as she has been,
Change is for me and you.

But humans why do we assume unchanged,
We forsake them, expecting to find them again.
But they mutate when left estranged,
Gone like lightning in the rain.

So I treat them,angels all.
Like a boat,tethered but adrift.
They are in truth a lark's call,
Left only in memory and fleeing swift.

Yet what have I done with this insight gained?
Naught for I remain ten of the fools.

Leaves on the current

One often hears that time is a river,
Our lives are leaves upon its flow.
Our time upon it, a mere sliver,
Bobbing with the current,
High and low.

But leaves flow alone,
Yet we seldom do.