A Waste of Time

A Waste of Time

How often do we fall for things that people say and do?

How often do we wonder if the things they say are true?

And when there’s doubt we call them out when stories don’t connect

I wish I had a dollar for each lie that we collect

What makes us do it? Is it fear?

I fear that I don’t know

But to be real I sort of feel

Like life is just a show

So many actors, all their staff

Just dancing on a stage

And sadly I’d say that I’d laugh

If not for this here page

Pen and pad have saved my life

They’re my only true escape

Avoiding this sharp cutting knife

That’s carves life’s packaged shape

Every night I pray to He

Who I don’t even know

For his hand to help me stand

On nights when I feel low

It’s hard, sometimes, when life’s cold rhymes

Rip out your true heart

I’d give anything, if I could bring

A better, fairer start

Life

A raindrop has one chance to fall

To land where it might fulfill all

As do dandelions sway

They, just once, will drift away

Breeze will carry, gently now

The seeds of life that they endow

No second chances, no regrets

One life is what each person gets

Do not be nervous

Feel not afraid

Destroy doubt’s wall

And barricade

Live your life as you want to

Do the things you want to do

Boldly tell the one you love

You’re meant to be and not scared of

Embrace the world as you see fit

For time, we don’t get much of it

Make the most of what you’ve got

Live and laugh and love, a lot

The Good Die Young

A man enters a lonely room, we’ll call him Mr. Bad

Another joins the other, Mr. Goodman, his comrade

They act and play and do the things that all the people do

And every time that Goodman wins folks’ love, Bad smiles too

“Sure it’s great, I do not hate, for Goodman is the best!”

But on the inside, Mr. Bad is beating on his chest

He writhes around until he’s found someone who hates Good too

And plots with them behind the scenes ‘cause that’s what people do

“Come here my dear, now tell me clear, why is it Good you hate?”

Bad asks the girl he found when he pretends they’re on a date

“He’s about him, he’s arrogant, it rubs me the wrong way!”

The words this little lady said what bothered her that day

“I know!” Said Bad, “The facts are had!

To tell you the whole truth

I hate him too, here’s what we’ll do,

we’ll end it in the booth”

And so it went, although Good meant, to only lend a hand

He died that day, I’m sad to say, on this election stand

And so it goes, as we all know, that’s how these things play out

When jealousy, toxicity, takes hold and causes doubt

So if I may, let me please say, if you’re a Mr. Bad

Take my advice: change your life, or you will wish you had.

Times Past

Twenty-twenty, ‘tis said to be

Yet now, so clearly do I see

Hindsight views such times, now lost

To go back I’d pay any cost

Things I wish I’d done, or said

To those who’ve drifted, or lie dead

I wish, so dearly, for the chance

To change what’s now my circumstance

So much sorrow

So much regret

No more tomorrow

They’re gone, and yet

All that’s left to do is clear

I cannot dwell on yesteryear

My choices give no other choice

I’m left with nothing, but my voice

So now I speak the best I can

I try so others understand

What matters can’t be weighed in gold

Its finding those who’s hand you hold

When I’m Gone

It saddens me that people are

So short-sighted, they don’t see far

And that these words will not be read

Until I live no more, lay dead

It is the truth, I do not care

What you might think, you’re unaware

Just what these things I say right now

Might truly mean, and yet somehow

You live inside your same old box

And if the truth stops by and knocks

You plug your ears, say it’s not so

Pretend it’s not there, even though

Late at night, all that remains

Is blood that flows inside your veins

You can’t escape that which is true

That greed and envy consume you

‘Tis why so many are not read

Until they lie alone, and dead

Mentors of me, they say it’s so

Their names are Edgar, and Van Gogh

Persevere

I care not for opinions, the things I say are true

My conscience guides and truth resides

in action, not with you

If you must talk then walk the walk, because otherwise

You’re all the same, the fact remains, you’re jealous and unwise

Weakness fosters hate for those who climb above the rest

They try to drown and put you down because they are depressed

Hate is part of this old game, it hasn’t changed at all

It’s been played since the first day that humans learned to crawl

Care not for those who bet you’ll fail, because they are the worst

And even though they think it so, don’t ever lose your thirst

Success will come to those who wait, for patience is virtue

The only ones who’ve seen it done are those who know it’s true

One Day

Listen, can you hear it?

Such beauty, violin

It’s strings are humming softly

To remind us where we’ve been

Such time it took to get here

So far, the journey seemed

So quick were we to make it

We’ve forgotten why we dreamed

Our life was so much simpler

Our souls, they all were freed

When nothing seemed to matter

For love was all we’d need

Just how did all this happen

Where did we go astray

Is it lost forever

Or can we find our way

Such sadness sweeps, such sorrow

Alone and thinking, every night

My heart, it longs so dearly

To feel that things are right

My hope, I fear is empty

Despite how deep I yearn

To live with pain, this broken

Is something I can’t learn

I wish this world was kinder

I wish we could all live

I wish we’d act as equals

I wish that we’d forgive

We lost our love, compassion

Somewhere along the way

Yet hope will live in my heart

To find ourselves, one day

Ours

Tell me what you’re feeling cause my heart just started healing and I’ve poured my very soul into the words on this page

I need to understand you because I don’t want to go through all the things that locked my heart into a cold, dark cage

I’ve tried so many times and I have witnessed all love’s crimes and I don’t want to start the war my shattered heart might wage

The only thing I ask is to make honesty our task to get past each other’s pasts and make it into old age

Please tell me what you’re thinking I can’t let our love start sinking just pull back all of the curtains see, this world is our stage

The One: First Entry

Can we be honest with ourselves for a moment? I want to talk about some things. Things like Facebook. Twitter. Instagram, perhaps. Hell, even Tinder…anything that lets people advertise who they are (or at least who they want to be) without having to concern themselves with the real world.

Yeah, I know.

It’s not easy to examine one’s self. We’d all much rather be judging someone else. But right now, let’s do the hard thing and focus the lens introspectively.

Sure, it’s easy to look on at the spinning wheel that is social media, watching as the people we know and grew up with move on with their lives. Comparison is the theif of joy, ain’t it? That’s what they say, at least.

It’s funny though because everyone’s aware, whether consciously or subconsciously, that social media is just a highlight reel. If only we knew who we all are after each one of those many layers of social graces and obligatory formalities got peeled back. The real, you know? Because as much as we market how cool our lives are, at the end of the day…it’s validation that we really want.

Most of us, that is. And you know what? That’s perfectly normal. Not at all a thing to be ashamed of.

After all, most of us just want someone who knows us. Who understands us. Who IS us. We want to enjoy life with a person who gets, more so than anyone, who we truly are. And I’m not talking about the person at three o’clock, bringing in coffee with the same fake grin we all wear knowing we’re just waiting for the hour hand to get knocked ahead a couple notches. I’m talking about the person we are when the day’s facade is over, the candles go out, and the door closes. That person you see when the ambient light from the TV flicks on as it highlights the it-was-a-long-day-fucked-up-hair and feetie pajamas silhouette. That’s the person we’re searching for.

And you want to know something? I bet you’ve already met them.

I know I have.

What I’d Give

So bittersweet, this day to me

Each year it lies in wait

The pain so strong, the memories: glee

I’m struck by love and hate

The loss of those we hold most dear

Turns to tragedy, life’s play

And while you feel the hurt all year

We all have that one day

A time when all emotions rise

Consuming every thought

We try, in vain, to don disguise

Our mind, so overwrought

For her I write this, through endless tear

I’d give anything on Earth

To spend, with her, just one last year

This day: my mother’s birth

Wanderlust

Wanderlust, traveler, perhaps even gypsy

So many labels they’ve applied, but in reality

Living life is all she wants, it’s really that simple

Her spirit shines through both her smile, and her cute cheek dimple

Life is meant for living, yes, a thing she truly gets

Singing, dancing, spinning round, she loves without regrets

Always brightening what is dark, this girl, so free of care

Defined by “one day at a time”, she’s happy everywhere

Some may say she’s weak, not strong

But she knows that they all are wrong

She is not lost, like others say

This girl’s just finding her own way

For all the things we say and do

There is but one thing that is true

Life, she says, is nothing more

Than canvas, white, awaiting more

It’s you who gets to fill the blank

And for this chance, we all should thank

This beautiful and wondrous place

For giving us the life it’s graced

Love & Loss

Unforgiving, relentless, cruel

More sour than lemon or lime

Yielded by Life, this emotionless tool

Deals pain that’s inevitable: Time

No matter the love or the laughter it sees

It strikes without warning or sign

Its flame turns to smolder the most peaceful of trees

All beginnings, it ends by design

Why, all too often, is it the trivial, mundane

That seems to be our sole focus and care?

It takes moments like these, meant for family; not pain

The harshest reminder – her cold, empty chair

How fickle it is that this Life seems to be

Just a path we all struggle to cross

It’s proven by Time, regardless how desperate the plea

That if you ever know Love…you’ll know Loss

Winds of Change

Softly cup my hand to ear

As wind blows whispers that I hear

Sadness, loss, regret they bring

All shadows from my yesteryear

Words escape me, ones I’ve lost

I never knew how much it’d cost

When I thought not to buy a ring

The path I should, I never crossed

Now I’m forced to walk, move on

Time has passed; those moments, gone

And though I wish to have them back

I must stay focused on the dawn

For life is cruel, it won’t concede

Regardless if I pray and plead

And though I may not be on track

Faith in myself is all I need

Things in life, they come and go

And as I lift this small window

I look outside, only to see

That we reap the things we sow

Every action, every word

Is seen, or felt, or tasted, heard

And whether it is you, or me

Life’s purpose always seems so blurred

So, to you, who has a past

Do not let your transgressions last

We’re here, together, throughout our time

And everyone has sins amassed

Live with love, try to arrange

The life you want, an open grange

Do not break rhythm, just to rhyme

And always, ride, the winds of change

Trust.

After all the hurt and pain I’ve seen, I realize things aren’t what they seem

Life is one unconscious stream, to most a nightmare; some a dream

I like to say I think things through but don’t know if I really do

Can’t comprehend the things He knew and yet I keep on trying to

It simply can’t be justified, His answers – I’m not satisfied

After all those nights I cried, in silence now I must confide

They say his plan is just too grand, his reasons we can’t understand

No longer will I idly stand, to You right now God, I demand

This hatred was my missing link, the ship You sail I’ve set to sink

I care not for what others think, these words I write in blood and ink

I look you now right in the eye. Why was it her who had to die?

This place you’ve made; it is not just

Deceit. Corruption. Betrayal. Lust.

That is the world on which we’re thrust

Shining once, now rot and rust

This isn’t what you and Abe should have discussed

This world should be love. One of laughter; robust

Yet I look all around and see so much disgust

Poor, helpless families that never adjust

You had so many ashes; all you created was dust

So I stand here before you, because someone must.

I take my life back now, God. You’ve broken my trust.

The Fear of Death

Some time ago, I sat upon a balcony, just staring on

My mind, my thoughts, my very soul, sat wondering where it all goes

I pondered whether, when we die, the scrolls are true, or just a lie

And as I sat there, lost in thought, a child came, a book he’d brought

Sitting down right next to me, he looked me in the eye, said “see?”

“Can’t you tell that he’s up there, and wants to free you from despair?”

Softly smirking, to he I said “my child, so many things I’ve read”

“Allah, Buddha, Krishna too; the testaments, both old and new”

Sadly sighing, this boy looked down and shedding tears, began to frown

“But mister,” this boy said to me, “our souls live for eternity”

“And if you doubt this, so I’m told, you’re cast aside ‘till time grows old”

I paused a moment, listening, and thought back to my christening

“Listen, son, for Matthew says, seek the kingdom; righteousness”

“The truth is all I want to know; to gaze upon a clear window”

“Do not let past transgressions rule, do not let dogma play the fool”

And then, with one last final breath, I said to him: “Do not fear death.”

My Hands

Never idle, on the move, ink pours on the page

The force that drives, a needed guide, is with me on this stage

I try to be an optimist, but sometimes I’m consumed by rage

Thinking of how things are done and how they could so quickly change

Yes all the world’s a stage you know, it’s something that you shan’t forget

The sun and stars would get along if only they’d shake hands and met

Humanity could follow suit, we’ve got the tech but somehow, yet

We manage to exacerbate the very things we should forget

Fossil fuels and everything, you know that it’s all temporary

But tell me more of how it works, and how mining isn’t mercenary

If you truly want to change the world into a gilded sanctuary

Then play the long game not the short, and hire you an actuary

Maybe they can run the numbers, project a truth that you won’t like

Their findings likely point to truth like human beings should take a hike

Sure, we all know that we need to build that interstate or that turnpike

Yet as we do this trees are cut, it’s like the land of the Third Reich

Yes it’s so, the world’s a stage, it’s just a game of checkers, chess

We put our pieces on the board, where we think they’ll help us best

And when we find a new chance to establish ourselves, let me guess

You want to build a military presence just to clean the mess

Sure my man, come on down, bring your gadgets and your tech

Cause I don’t really care what happens as long as I get that big check

You see this is why the world is wasted, all it’s countries are a wreck

We let the people be in charge that only care for their own neck

Maybe one day you’ll wake up, realize that this dream of yours

Doesn’t have to happen this way and you won’t be on all fours

Rising up and taking charge, you’ll fight and finely take these lands

Until then I’ll try my best, just writing with my moving hands

Letter to My Lost: 1

My love. My all. Such memories do we share. Memories such as the times we’d awaken to the sun’s shimmering rays darting through the window, on those soft linen sheets as you’d rollover, greeting me with the morning’s first kiss. Memories of your fingers gently gliding, cusping the back of my neck, holding me as if you’d never let go.

I so long for these moments. I cannot help but wonder where you are and what dangers lie ahead. Each day, without exception, I sit gazing out this window at the calm beach and its soothing waves; the soft sound of the salted water drifting to the shore. I think of us, my love, walking along that cool, flawlessly smooth sand with our hands clasped tightly together, enjoying the warm breeze as it passes through us without a care in the world.

The days are proving harder, my love. Each day without you further shatters my soul, as my thoughts are imprisoned by the uncertainty of your welfare. I miss you every waking second of the day, and am greeted by your embrace only in my most deepest of dreams.

Tell me you will be returning soon. I cannot bear the thought of going through this every day. I miss you, my Braden. I hope my letter finds you well.

Please come home to me.

With everlasting love,

Your Lilliana

Keep the Prayers

Keep the prayers, I request, to your own faithful self. They’re distant to me, meant for somebody else. I was close to your God, admittedly you see, until he ripped me apart; abandoning me. I’m told “There’s always a reason”. Yeah, well I disagree. No purpose is found in response to my plea. His “love” ripped the life from my family tree and left nothing but branches, bare as can be. Yet I’m expected to thank Him for who he DID leave? The knuckles and thorns that cause nothing but grief? I’m asked to embrace this great Sculptor and Thief, who steals life from creation yet demands its belief? How twisted the logic of Religion must be to pass judgments on those who don’t blindly believe; we who dare question the infallibility of He who locks his own house and gives evil the key, corrupting his own tenants that in one breath could be free, if only the Lord would allow their release?

I don’t care what your pages, prayers, or priests tell you. There is no realm in which the amount of unwarranted death, suffering, and destruction this world is subjected to can be justified. No false eternity, no empty promises, and no alleged punishment of those who oppress, rape, or murder will ever merit the evil allowed in this world. These are nothing more than lies to masquerade the suffering as something worth tolerating. A pathetic grasp for meaning in a meaningless reality.

Breathe.

Listen, I don’t want to offend, just please comprehend that the time that we spend in devotion and admiration of who we thought was our friend is now something that, sadly, I can no longer commend. The magnitude of my mind’s malcontent effects pain impossible to mend, as I see nothing but an empty dead end for which I can no longer expend what little strength I have left to fight or contend. It’s like He created hope just to strip it away, to apprehend our only tool to desperately suspend the realization that for every start, there’s an end; that the shadows and darkness will always descend; demonically disregarding the tales we believe and the life we pretend.

I’m conflicted, consumed and confused by this sense of abandonment I’ve no choice but to feel, ashamed I took the bait; deceived by a false rod and reel. I can no longer find cause to embrace, heed or kneel to He who ignored every cry and appeal, my pathetic attempts to take her pain and conceal all the heartache she suffered and the hurt that he’d deal. And yet, through it all, she still prayed that she’d heal, to one day finally break that constricting tight seal, in hope that the answers she sought would at long last be revealed.

There are no words in existence which can adequately describe the degree of sadness, emptiness, hopelessness and hatred that such hindsight instills.

Once more, I ask that you respectfully forgive what many would label as harsh conjecture. This is not the shallow recant of some closed-off, short-sighted miscreant. These pages contain the unabridged passion which defines me; nothing more.

So I ask that you forgive, as every night I can’t help but relive that month which felt more like a year, when I sat plagued by inexplicable fear that her death was so close; unavoidably near. How vivid is that memory, hauntingly clear; the image of she who I held so close and so dear, lying in tubes on that bed as the shell of the person who used to appear; now drifting away with no life to cohere. And as I sat next to her writing through every cry, sob and tear, I tried my absolute damnedest to be strong, persevere, begging God that He’d save her so for once in her life she could taste happiness; cheer.

I watched the tube being pulled from her. That final, feeble lifeline pathetically attempting to breathe life into her poor lungs. I collapsed, terrified, against the wall. Defeated, completely helpless and puddled in tears as I witnessed her unconscious body desperately gasp for the oxygen that her fragile body’s grip could no longer grasp. It was, without the remotest doubt, the worst sensation I have ever experienced, and one which I would not wish on even the worst transgressors of humanity. Feelings such as those felt that moment would not exist in a world claimed to have been created out of love. This is the harsh, unarguably candid truth.

Regarding my opinions and views of God, I ask not that you agree. I have no request, nor desire, for sadness or sympathy. I merely wish that my words and contempt fall on minds that are free; free of the judgement which has for so long met my plea as I fail to articulate that which I now so passionately see.

For thirty years I have bowed, as my whole life I would vow, yet I stand here no longer acting holier than thou. I can simply not continue to allow my unjust allegiance, as every drop of sweat from my brow is shed for He who destroys, whom I tonight disavow. It’s not born of vanity, and not that I’m proud. I’ve just at last cleared the malicious dark cloud that’s wrapped my plagued mind in the blackest of shrouds. Despite His cold embrace, I’m finally free; and the death of my mother is the answer, to how.

Please, keep the prayers. I just…don’t need them now.

My New World

The other day I went out and bought this big ass terrarium. At first I wanted something else, like a ferret, or salt aquarium. But I ended up changing my mind. Something about that enormous, transparent habitat just appealed to me. Not sure why. Anyway, I took it home, set it down, walked away and spent the rest of the day doing various chores around the house. Later, as the day wound down and I finished getting ready to set sail to Slumbertown, I stood beside my bed and stared at this empty tank in front of me, and thought: “Now what?” Well, I stared for awhile longer, pondering all the things I could put inside. Like lizards, or turtles, or the disembodied limbs of my enemies, ya know? But then, for some reason, I figured I’d try to think bigger, like a sugar glide or boa snake or some awesome theme park hamster slide, but then I internally heard a voice say “Hey Matt! Can you kindly shut up, and actually decide?” (Sometimes I forget that my brain actually speaks and isn’t just along for the ride).

Okay maybe that last part, I confide, didn’t really happen. I lied. So what? This is MY story, dammit, and I’m the guide; you’re just here for me to preside as YOU sit there along for the ride. Like my bitch ass brain should be. And you know what el – okay I’m just playin. I apologize.

Lets get back to the empty tank, shall we?

There I was. A literal micro-world of possibilities sitting there before me when all of a sudden, it came to me. Oh my God! I can populate this thing with like, an entire cornucopia of different organisms and let them all co-exist. Just like Earth! It’ll be my own little universe to create; with myself, of course, ruling over the entire domain in control of its fate.

So I thought about that for a moment.

As I stood there, so many things started coursing through my head. Things like how the tank sits next to my bed, and what if I moved it to the corner instead? My brain considered that but eventually said “Just leave it there Matt. Heavy lifting? We know that’s a thing that you hate and you dread. Because to be candid, you’re kind of a pussy.” And before I could reply to my ever-annoying mind, something happened. I, at last, realized something of grave importance which would directly affect the internal debate currently transpiring in my skull.

I realized l had bolted the damn tank to the table earlier that day, and that I couldn’t move the stupid thing even if I wanted to. So that took care of that.

Then things started to get a bit more serious. The above realization had freed up my thought, and I started to jot what kinds of things could be bought to populate this little glass plot. I wondered how much time I’d allot to spend in this spot, as the truth that I fought is that there’s only so much time that I’ve got.

That’s when I decided.

I’ll put whatever the hell I want in this thing! Let’s Noah’s Ark the Hell out of it. After all, I own this dominion, no? Of course I do. This tiny world was mine to create. So again, that took care of that.

I would run the place my way. Or ways, I should say, because hey – why limit myself to one set of rules or pathway? Wouldn’t it be more fun to rule one way on weekends and another on workdays?

So that was my decision.

Ironically, I decided that deciding didn’t warrant my abiding by the expectations usually presiding over the world WE live in that, admittedly, could use much, much better guiding. Would I mimic this world of constant dividing forcing families into hiding with a fear that’s never subsiding as their dreams are ever sliding down a hopeless, empty chasm? Or would I opt to be providing? The latter, if I’m confiding, that I wish was more closely coinciding with the regimes currently overriding any form of free thought or challenge to their authority as they quell dissent with brutal chiding. Perhaps I could create both environments, depending on my mood. Sky is the limit I suppose.

Yes, this will be Matt’s world.

This would be a world for me, alone, to create. A world where Matt can dictate who they’ll love and who they’ll hate, and whether one lives in an estate or whether they instead await a much less privileged, unfair, sadly hopeless fate. A world I own; my own private city-state where I can close the real world’s gate, retreating as the night is late to the creatures I rule, as I mandate that they worship me as “Matt, The All-Knowing; The Loved, The Feared…but Mostly The Great.” I imagine that would very much elate, as my animal instinctual desire to dominate can be an appetite that finally, I can satiate.

That’d be cool, right?

Then my Brain did that thing again. That thing I keep telling it not to. It dug. Deeper and deeper.

And I had an epiphany.

All of these creatures that I dreamt to control might actually have their own aspiration or goal. Who was I to keep them tied to this pole that my mind had created; after all, they all have a soul, don’t they? And, if we’re being candid, for one to feel whole they shouldn’t have to hide in some hole that they dug to avoid paying a toll to some hovering, judgmental ruler who more closely resembles a troll than the benevolent creator that some poor schmuck described millennia ago on a crusty, crumbling scroll.

So I changed my mind yet again.

And I bought a fucking turtle. Because truthfully, my brain was annoying the hell out of me. I installed this little mini-swimming pool for it and everything. Hell, I even got the little shit a floating lily pad for those times it desired extra, extra laziness. Oh, turtles. How uneventful their lives are. This turtle’s existence, however, would be eventful as shit. ‘Cause this turtle, unlike any before in the history of Turtledom, lived in Matt’s World. It would be treated as a King. Actually wait; let’s say prince. It’d be treated like a prince. I’m the King. Duh.

Lucky turtle.

Oh, and I call the thing an “it” because I have absolutely no idea how to identify the gender of a turtle without using means that are entirely too…intimate. So how do I name it, I wondered? Well, I decided on the path of least resistance, and just named it Pat. Sure, there are dozens of gender neutral names, but hey. Pat rhymes with Matt. Now we’re two peas on a lily pad, god dammit. And to anyone making fun…you’re obviously just jealous you don’t have a Pat of your own. Haters gon’ hate.

Anyway, a curious thing happened after I (and Pat) got settled to go to Sleepburg.

I thought back to that thing which, before, I would laud. All that power I wanted, which to me now just seems odd. I pictured an image of the creator I so recently imagined I’d be, and suddenly I was swept by an eerie sense of awe. Awe by that place where my mind’s steps had just trod. The thing I fear most; that power is a thing I desire and applaud. A thing, to be frank, that’s just a corrupted facade. The empty, false confidence of believing my own fraud. A dream that I now realize exposes a harsh truth; which is the fact that I’m enormously flawed.

Because why, so recently, had I thought to maraud an entire universe of creatures as if they were just inmates, helplessly at the mercy of my personal firing squad? This question, which sawed at my brain as my frozen thoughts were all thawed as I started to prod, questioning my own moral fibers with a psychological measuring rod – I was suddenly, overwhelmingly consumed by the most profound of considerations.

See, this world I had imagined just hours ago wouldn’t be far removed from the world that WE know. Had I thrown those poor creatures in that tank all alone, sitting back as I watch them all fight, die, or grow, knowing that I could intervene at any point down below – shouldn’t I? I mean if with all of that power I could use and bestow, what reason would I have to let my own creatures woe? As peace, I forego; what kind of monster would that make me, watching them suffer when at the snap of my finger, away it’d all go? What kind of creator could do that to the very things he put there to begin with? They didn’t ask to be put there! They owe me nothing, right? Why would I do that?

Then I recalled my old thoughts yet again. I recalled all that darkness which my own brain had thankfully outlawed just hours before, as I was confronted by a question that was narrowing my beliefs that were once far too broad.

I asked, though I silently feared the truth; were those the same thoughts that were considered…by God?

When Finally, It’s Built

The last years of your life

So confined and constrained

Arthritis was rife

It hurt, and it pained

No solace you had

But to lay in your bed

Retreat to your books

Build a world in your head

I’ll never forget, Mom

All the stories and shows

We’d read and watch together

To forget this life’s woes

CSI, Nora Roberts

Your favorites, I know

You’d gleefully immerse

In her books, or that show

Oh Mom, how it hurts

To think of these times

It rips me apart

But keeps me alive

All that’s ahead

Everything I achieve

Is all due to you, Mom

And your love for me

You deserved so much more

How so badly I yearn

To turn back the clock

Give the life that you earned

The impossible, I want

The impossible, I need

Yet I’m forced to move forward

And to carry this grief

Your love for those stories

They’ve inspired me, Mom

And I promised you one day

That’d I’d carry that love on

One day, Mom, I swear it

No more tears will be spilt

When I cut that bright ribbon

When finally, it’s built