Vision+Voice

Outside it can be cold
And the world is in a hold
through the cold evening sky
Sunlight is a yellow dye.

With a camera in your hand
It sees arrays of vegetation so grand
That a photo could never do it right
For it can never capture the sun’s great light.

The sand and the ocean are thirsty
They shout to the sun to please give them mercy.
And as the sun obeys
Sunlight sways over the waves.

A man and a woman
Are one
As sunlight and moonlight
Are one.

Like a splash of watercolor on a barren canvas
Sunlight flows like the fingertips of a pianist
And when sunlight reaches for the stars
She is finally ours.

Dance”
My mother would say
Each step was a look away
From the thoughts that surrounded me
As the music finally bounded
Who I was to become
5 year old me was filled with jumping and leaping
The rhythm holding back my weeping.

“Dance”
My mother would say
As she cooked dinner that day
My face flushed with the rednesses of our tomatoes
Although my stomach, filled with rainbows,
Begged my feet for sweet relief
13-year-old me knew what the heart wanted
Although my see-through reputation had already parted

“Dance”
My mother would say
As a text reflected into me like prey
As it burnt into my eyes like pepper spray
I couldn’t hear myself think
As the dance floor was covered in green and pink
And spilt around me was a drink
17-year-old me would tell myself “Not today”
Although I knew that idea would turn grey

“Dance”
He would say
As we stood in the ray of the refrigerator light
“Please, just a dance”
And almost like I was in a trance
I started to advance into a dance
Releasing shackles of fear
In hopes of never reappearing
23-year-old me danced
Danced until my P.Js were soaked with my sweat
Danced for all the memories I hadn’t met yet
And the one I was making with my silhouette

My mother spoke to me one day
She asked to dance
And she knew with just a glance
“Of course”
I said
And I danced
For every baby babble
For every whiff of her dinner that day
For every new refrigerator we bought
Although I may not have loved them very much
I danced for them

And so I went
And I searched for something
That couldn’t even be described
I asked the sun for some of her light
To which she had no response
I asked the moon for some of her beauty
To which she had no response
I asked the mirror for some of her words
To which she answered
“Anything I give you
Will simply, already be yours
Because anything you ask the sun the moon
And the stars for
Is already yours
You just haven’t seen it yet”

On nights when I can’t sleep
I imagine I’m with you
I imagine I can hear your heartbeat in my ears
Ringing through my head
Like an early bird call
I imagine your arms like ribbons on a present
Like a cage for all my worries
A haven for my flaws
like I’m still that little girl
sucking her thumb
I imagine I watch you dream of every day
That I’ve never gotten to see
Mama, one day I hope I know what your dreams are,

When you become the first thing
You truly feared
You become self-aware
For the very first time

When the mirror finally snaps back at you
Like that one time when ur neighbor’s cat bit you
And you didn’t quite know why
You finally understand why
For the very first time

Wake up
Remember the
Portal in my closet
Walk inside it, and become a
pneuma.

The pain
Was draconian
But I managed through all
The searing pain of the portal.
Success.

I walked
Right through the door
And found myself back in
The same old room… but different.
Somehow.

I looked
Around my room
And saw an orb floating
Upon my bed, just hovering.
It moved.

It told
Me to go sleep
Upon the bed beneath
It. so I got into my bed and
Slept long.

Woke up.
Remember the
Portal in my closet
Walk inside it, and become a
Pneuma

I’ve heard that dreams are symbols
That represent our future.
Yet, are they not the shackles
That keep us in this stupor?

Perhaps, I’ve been too easily swayed
By the lies that swept me up.
I wonder if the cards I played
Were stopped far too abrupt.

For once I dreamt I was stuck
Falling down a deep, dark hole.
I fell for eternity, ‘til I struck
A realization: I had no control.

For now, I wish I could go back
To that time when I was innocent.
It’s hard to imagine how I lack
That perfect, perfect innocence.

Maybe if I worked to death,
I would find what I was looking for.
But now, I’d rather take a breath
Than find solace ’hind a door.

There is a tree
Outside my window
That scratches
On my walls.
My father says
It must come down
Before it breaks
And splinters.
But this tree is
Young and wild,
And not at risk
Of dying.

So why must we
Cut it down?
It has so much
To live for.

I’ve seen the
Squirrels who
Sleep in its branches,
And the bugs who
Feast on its leaves.
I’ve seen the ants
Who crawl along
Its bark and the birds
Who eat its seeds.

So what of the life
It lives?
Is such a thing
Enough to keep
This tree from dying?

I wouldn’t know,
Since all I know
Is how to keep from
Crying.
Its bark is strong,
Unlike its bite,
Though maybe it
Doesn’t have one.
But the birds and bugs
Might stay and fight
To protect its fate.

Maybe that’s its
Blessing.
It has the breath
Of all who live
In or around
The tree.
If I can see
Its mind and body,
Maybe I can
Be another
Of its protectors,
And I can
Change its fate.

What is the light beyond death?
Is death without purpose?
Without death, the hell that we fear so would rise above the crust.
The light beyond the void gives us hope; without, we would crumble under the great sadness of living

Are the perverted and depraved hearts of the world worth the mercy of thy lord?
The great clemency that has stretched upon our land did not choose who bore and who did not; for if he did, the free will we abuse so, would run through our fingertips.
Is being gracious and caring just for the prospect of the lord’s goodness just?

True virtue is made by knowing sin, but choosing to help another.
The book that was corrupted by centuries of man truly un-touched by sin?
Ay, worshipers of the sinful book have misplaced their respect for the lord, he loves all.
Tell me, if true virtue is helping without knowing, then why must we know, and not know?

The ones without a spoiled center know this light, even if it wasn’t him.
For we worship a face that is featureless.
We do not truly know him, but we do know goodness. So we must continue this worship, not for a chance at his charity, but because the virtue in our hearts demands so.

They walk in silent accord
Their soft linen touching the tall, tangling turf.
A face of brewing solidarity and eyes of piercing bright lights
Their ensemble weaved with careful seams and timeless dreams.
The hand clock of their life slowly ticks, ticks, ticks
The nuit blanche has been their tyme
Their clock clicking up and down in spite of
The phantoms that surround them.
Djinns, genies, and magicians come like moths to a light,
Yet all the words and rhymes
Bells and chimes
Hollow words and simple lies
Even if the lord told them a secret
The soft words of heavenly David’s key
And where to take it
They would still stand
Aloof and bored in the grass
Unable to feel the dainty mockery
Of the nostalgic past.

For they come when the present seems to run
They come when all forget
When death seems to drag its feet
And when the angel wings seem not to lift.
Kronos, Kairos, Ananke, and Janus
The names of the beast that many used to define it.
They don’t go by time
They don’t know who is alive
All they’ve done before
And all they’ll do again
Is take all and none
That is deemed to be fit.
Yes, a puppet floating on magic strings
A creature with none left to bleed
A casket walking
A cadaver dapper
A carcass laggard
As they dangle the keys
Of the endlessness which seems
To go on for

Every person knows whom
The thing this creature looms
Even the trees hang as tombs
Revering the work it does till noon.
Never does fortunes seem on its mind
Is it not life that it reaps from you or mine
To the first man and smallest leaf
Yield the same results as it drags from the cemetery.

Clock’s, clunky, clever, comely, corporeal capture concentration.
They tout their tactful, timely turns, twisted to
Serve some soulful speaker savant such so
That even the lands stand in solemn servitude.
Even the creature seems hypnotized
Mesmerized
Downsized to a caged beast
Willingly stuck in the honey pot
A fly drowning in cider.
For them, solitude was their friend
And now, another meant something to them
Even if this person tightens the leash
And force them to feast
On the bones of the innocent, unwitting in the least.
A deity, now stuck
For Eternity