Our steps lengthen gracefully,
Full of musing rhythms,
Pinched between climbing
Scales and sloping melodies–
We compose without composure,
But no matter, our march hardly falters.
It’s a great swelling noise
Moving forward, continuously growing
Never lacking beauty.
Notes cut through reason,
Escaping softly through lulling elegance,
And still we move, blindly.
But, together, if we falter
The music will continue
And we’ll still move with it.
What consumes us is said to make us stronger,
But calamity paralyzes in the moment,
And slips off in quiet steps
Leaving the door slightly ajar
To slip in and out carefree.
Happiness may flit in between
But still it remains,
The grief and darkness which never fully vanishes.
We are dangerous beings–
To build and plant despair long after
The seeds were sown,
Wishing for that joy to return.
Still, we dismiss everything to know sorrow
Because it is only this that reminds us
That we are truly alive.
Though, what would come if we allowed happiness to consume us,
Would we yearn for that pain,
To remind us that once, we were happy?
Amalgamation in long swallows,
As the sun dips behind climbing hills,
Concealing the pub in tawny shadows.
To become apart– a piece of–
an attachment to a life lost
Must be dismissed.
Steps lead to the present–
Hurdle and obstacles, the whole way.
But, not to be forgotten,
Only to allow the beginning to be found,
Somewhere in the middle,
Without taste, familiar.
But, comfort exists in gleaming colors.
We wander through tiny streets
Calling out words and sounds
That bounce back carefully.
As the world moves and twists
We too meander, aimless,
Not knowing that as we twist,
We too twist.
Alleyways grow and shrink
In unending succession
Revolving like arteries
Through the center,
Moving in circles to pull
The soft soul asunder.
Those words and sounds grow fainter
As what our eyes see
And our heart feels polarize–
We get lost together
Through narrow causeways,
To brighten a budding silence.
Work consumes in thudding waves.
It all erupts now,
And it doesn’t matter;
There it is…
We will go where we may,
In soft, swift footed steps,
But where we are now
Feels determined on what blossoms daily.
We are needy flowers,
Seeking a withholding sun.
To stave off what?
Nothing; simply the motions of
Sleepy swimming in a blushing sun
To feed, to fill–as nature does,
And all to the garish tune
Of easy clicking keyboards.
Today everything moved slowly,
Caught without time
To hinder the languid motions that comfort breeds.
Inevitably the day dwindled
And night sprouted without warning –
And stars fell over Chalk Farm
But, eyes failed to pick it up.
The sign, that you and I saw,
That fatalism will never be a word,
It fails to take the shape of anything familiar.
It trails in the small wake of falling stars:
Absence in blinking diamonds –
The illusion of beauty and danger
Ages after it already happened.
Brash and unsettling,
The drinks continue coming,
Halting reservation and tact.
Two become, as only one is seen–
Hands move and mouths move
As tiny daggers slip through
Judgements fading grasp.
It is nothing never seen,
Ordinary in it’s budding disgust.
But, calming eyes and what is now
Intertwine and become eternity.
Sweetness still lives behind crassness,
It is concealing and revealing that
Allow adoration to stand upright
…One foot reaches, toes grip feverishly,
Wind whipping long ways,
To quell the simplicity of becoming accustomed.
Why must rhythms beat manic?
Breaking and swirling, wild and destructive
Or soft and quiet–
It all revolves around and intersects,
No different that what one calls foreign.
Smoke still curls out of chimneys on cold nights
And the sound of barking dogs echo back,
On crisp, cold nights.
There are varying degrees of difference,
But one fact remains:
Anxiety still erupts in easy, measured strides.
It was grey and cloudy,
London sat solid in bulging solitude
As we reached the peak.
Though the city moved,
Lives becoming and lives removed,
We felt as though it were only us that twirled in the dizzying fray.
But, lust dismisses the whole,
Left in fragments,
Conceited it thinks only in narrowness.
As we walked, lost,
We moved in large circles
Ending where we began, still alone.
Voices remind the man of where he is going and where he has been.
Familiar sounds offer comfort to push forward,
In the uncertainty of endeavors.
There is motivation in people
Moving outwards and latching on,
As worlds move further away.
Man knows he is not alone,
But the reality is often difficult to see.
Sight becomes clouded by what is unseen,
But, it is familiar sounds that draw him in
And remind him he is not alone.