Residual

For what woe go I –
For what woe go I unto the day?

The day’s heat –
A hot sun,
The sun sets, the day is done

For woe too ceases in due course,
But as the eye of heaven shines too hot,
So too does woe steal the day’s splendor through it’s might

Woe’s reign is cruel and unbending
For woe’s wrath – as the suns – as merciless and unending

We’re all looking for good girls
We’re all looking for good guys
But it’s all a guise,
For who does not wear a disguise

Will I ever be young again
Will I ever explore the world with someone again?
Will I ever love again?

Homefree

They told me home is where the heart is,
So I roamed the world homeless and broken-hearted

One person,
You can let one person destroy you

But that’s not all there is to life –

For tonight I found myself under a rain splatted roof,
Unsure and at ill-ease

And no sooner had this feeling befallen me,
Than I had a vision:
Our Ancestors, under a night-sky – Wild, Scared, Free

And this gave me a memory,
A knowing deep in my bones –
A feeling that the world Itself was to be my home

And the ancients spoke, speaking:
“If you do not make yourself home in the world now, you will never.”

So tonight
I am alone –
But I am home

For ‘tho it may be just me –
I know right here,
This is as home as I’ll ever be

So, if you’re reading this now, know,
You are Home,
You are Free

Part Dos

How could you not have anxiety in this society –

Two million advertisements telling you to buy this and you’ll be okay –
Buy this and you’ll be liked too

But no, Dear Boy,
You’ve been lied to

The horses do not whirr in the wind,
The city breeze catches no daisies,
And the old men do not smile and laugh at the cafe

Yes,
The whole world has changed

And me –
Yes, what of you?
Hmmph
I was in love once too –
Okay, twice

But it’s been a long time,
It’s been a long time since somebody loved you –

I had a place in the world once though –
I had a home

I was young and perfect,
And she loved me –

Boy did she love me.

Part Dos

So where is she now
– Where is she now.

Dear Boy

You’ve been searching for signs,
Looking to the colors in her eyes to see if you can find the missing pieces of your life

Because you know –

There is a song in your heart that no one else knows
And there’s a place in your soul where you rarely ever go
There is a sense of longing here;

A yearning for love
For the sweetest lust,
The great adventure;
The One True Romance

This is the sound of silence,
This is the unrelenting beckoning towards the unknown
Dear Boy,
This is the calling of a life that’s truer and closer to all you know

This is what the Siren’s call sounds like

She says:

Dear boy –
There is a rich inner world that you’re not living –
And there’s so much more to love than what you’ve been given
So don’t lie to me and say you’re not dreaming of a connection deep enough to cross this valley

The Siren’s call tells you that the inseparable distance between your dreams and her desires is closer than it seems

And this is space where you lie
And in public moments you tell yourself she is the one
Or perhaps you tell yourself She WAS the bridge and it’s been burned now
And in private moments you know

Because the Siren’s call promises so much

But Dear Brother,
She lives in you
Just as you will live in her forever
She is every woman
She is the beauty of your soul

Even the dark parts and the scars

###

Author note:

This was a difficult poem to write. It was difficult because it felt too close to the bone. And it sat in the cloud for two days unpublished. But tonight I found myself in an interesting introspection; I found myself thinking about artistic integrity, which quite frankly made me picture the visage of Taylor Swift or someone else equally ironic in the same conundrum. An artist in the most ironic quandary an artist can be in – and It goes something like this: “well, I want to express my art but I don’t know how much I can expose myself / but I’m also obligated to give this saying of truth.

This is all somewhat of a moot point now obviously, since I did publish it, but nonetheless insecurity was a large afterthought; however, I’m reminded of Joseph Cambell’s words that “the treasure we seek lies in the cave we fear to enter”, and this certainly would define the last year of my life. There’s been a theme of facing darkness. And that’s okay.

That’s okay.