Separated

When the sky meets water and turns to flame,

Over there I know it will do the same

Gold exchanged for gold, velvet for velvet

Azure for azure, scarlet for scarlet.

A time to witness a King’s tragic fall

As the eye of life closes, consumes all.

The Silver Queen then wanders the night

While the King rises once more to a show of light.

It is there you will be under the grace of the King,

While in darkness I remain with the crickets who sing;

They sing for the Queen, of her woe and plight

As she searches for her king alone in flight

‘Til finally they unite in the in-between

Where fire yet burns and crickets not seen

The King with his Queen, the Queen her King

In that fleeting moment, bliss does sing. 

An Incomplete Weekend

Long was the journey
Long,
And empty.
An incomplete fellowship
To a facade of adventure
Frolicking,
J-walking,
Ale drinking,
Sucker Punching--
All for naught,
For all was incomplete
Without our Boss.
Though the sun shone
Upon our party
It shone but partly
For we were only partly there
Without our Boss.
Boss Tweej.

This was a spontaneous poem I wrote for Tweej. It was written out of guilt, as she guilted me about Jon leaving her a poem about her absence, but not me.  I thought it was decent for being written in only 5 minutes.

Sisyphus

Will I ever succeed at getting this boulder on top of the mountain without it falling back down again?

It has been a semester of the same unending cycle. I work, I see a glimmer of success, and then I'm shot down to ground zero. Too much I build up hope, hope that I will be recognized for who I am and what I do. When I become close enough to recognition, enough where I can smell its desirable sweetness, the smell fades away, leaving me with the empty desire that can no longer be satisfied. But I still yearn for it. I want to taste that smell and know what it feels like to have the opportunity to do so; but it denies itself to me.

Why reward a man for who he is and what he does if he does not thoroughly know himself? I feel like an invisible man, transparent to everyone, including myself. People don't know what to think of me. They don't know that I'm there. I'm just another face that wears other faces. What do you do with a man who has no definite personality, a man who keeps an arsenal of different masks and goes through them at will? A man like that scares people; they don't know what to think. They refuse to recognize, for it is unclear what exactly there is to recognize. And yet, all the man desires is recognition. Without it, there can be no establishment of a definite personality. Without it, the man can not be himself, for he knows not himself, but only of the opinions others paint of him. He is forced to wear masks, forced to be a puppet of acceptance, bending to the will of the master as a slave unable to break his bonds.

But there is a key; and that key is recognition. The task is to achieve that key. Until that boulder stays atop the mountain, the man shall be enslaved to his never-ending task.

No Pain Can Be Deeper

Pain will subside eventually. In the meantime, there is the necessity of focusing on other obstacles. In the meantime, revel in the pain; channel it into a strand of beauty. What dies can only grow anew.