The Weight That We Bear

Heavy eyes and heavy hearts

Will bear the weight a back cannot.

The weight of days that run too late

Would leave a weathered spine unstraight.

But eyes will keep our minds awake

When time’s the only thing at stake.

The pain of love that’s come and gone

A body could not carry on

The heart will persevere in time

When all its pieces recombine…

… for broken hearts and tired eyes

are stronger than they seem sometimes.

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The Hills of my Heart

The world is bigger now, it seems.

My horizons stretch like a pelican’s wings

From shimmering waters to shadowy mountains.

 

This land now seems so peaceful and still,

So quiet compared to its tumultuous past,

That I could almost forget that it was my own.

 

My heart; my heart! That beats in time again.

So gently restored to its former benevelance

The storms receded, the frost has thawed.

 

Despite my ever-expanding garden green

It’s still so easy to get lost in the sky

In a world so vast, there’s room for two.

Isolated

You own the words that line my tongue,
That stroll the beaches of my every desire.
I keep them on an island, isolated
To conserve the innocence of what we are
This precious, harmless world of ours
That belongs to you and I and no one else
Where time can freeze in moments where
I find myself inside your smile.

Precious Pearls

A soft wind blows and carries with it
The smell of flowers and salt water
That caresses the memories I am
Painting with a bright and colourful brush.
With gentle, whispered words it says
To hold onto these precious pearls
Because the tide is coming in again
And it will drag me out with contempt
For the fact that even for a second
I was recklessly and passionately free.

supernovae.

the bittersweet taste of humility touches my tongue

and scalds my mouth, merciless and unforgiving

when I ponder the thought that I am the speck of a speck

drifting along, unknowing and unhindered

when I think of our true genesis, of our origins

that we are just the residue of eons upon silent eons

of violent, paramount celestial commotion

I feel terribly small but utterly invincible

for we are not humans, with mortal desires

but stardust, erupted from ancient catastrophes.

we died in supernovae, incomprehensibly far away

in a lifetime so distant we can’t capture its ghost

yet here we are, living our afterlives blindly

unaware that we once were the source of our light.

 

All We Are is History

We spoke about astronomy.

We talked about philosophy and history and all of the topics my mind had been craving for months. It was a glass of lemonade on a sweltering summer day. In reality it was a brisk March afternoon and the sun had started setting behind the highrise buildings, reflecting off the glass windows and into my eyes.

We shared our desires for the future and anecdotes about our past, both equally uncertain. We were simply two pieces of the same puzzle, left out of the picture because our jagged tabs didn’t fit into any of the other pieces; and yet we came together so effortlessly, so naturally.

It was as if I was discovering a part of myself I had long since forgotten, that I had buried for fear of being betrayed by an alien reality in which I felt imprisoned. She made me feel whole again, like the version of myself I had envied for so long while unable to feel truly comfortable in my skin, pulled taut across my bones.

She spoke to me in ways that I had longed for, in a way that soothed my soul. Her eyes were bright and her smile was wide, and it was completely uncharted territory for me. We talked for hours that felt like minutes and it relieved me of pain that I had been harboring for millenia. She found a way into a heart that had been clinging to life and gave it a reason to keep fighting…

…and while we spoke about the stars and the human experience, I realized that all we are is history.