Soul searching

 

Soul searching through every staggered line.

If I was to travel back in time,

would the person I saw back then

recognise the me that looks back at him?

 

Would he see the growth?

From every time I planted seeds,

to grow over time, so that I could

see my potential as a tree,

newborn branches reaching out.

Fruit growing bountiful and free for

me to taste the growth

that can normally only be felt internally.

 

Would he take an apple from that tree,

And discard it because

it doesn’t come packaged

in plastic wrapped futility?

 

Soul searching across every verse

I put my words to the test every time

I let them scratch into my barked throat.

 

Do they hurt or bring joy, do they connect,

do they make some sense of some abstract

fragment of my past, or of this world

and its vast set of stories and lives?

 

I've scratched at moments

and looked deeply

at why they made me feel.

Why I reacted, why I was who I was.

Would the me from yesterday,

see the growth, or just a weed

that needed to be plucked

from existence?

 

Soul searching through the deepest parts.

I dig into my soil, spade in blistered hands

I dig into me, all of my deserted wastelands,

I blast songs through my heart to invite

fire to spark, a blaze. To give me a moment

to wonder as I gaze at all the good and the bad.

And it can take its toll. It can sometimes

feel like digging a hole into the heart of sadness

that forms this universe, to swallow you whole.

But I know that from that hole

I’ll always climb, renewed and with

a more open, thoughtful mind.

 

Soul searching inside.

Would the old me see the love,

or would he be hit between the eyes

by the way the pain

can feel too real?

Would he sigh, saying that its worthless?

Just words on paper, spoken word vapour.

Words scattered into the leaves.

 

Well, I’d tell him loudly.

I’d say, proudly, are you happy?

Because even on my sad days

I smile more than I cry,

I look to the world in delight, and even

though the dirt and the hate

sometimes gets into my eyes,

even if cosmic emptiness

collects under my fingernails

from time to time,

from picking up pieces

that have been worn down.

I’d still say that I’m happier now.

And more often I find stardust

when I explore the essence of life.

freefall

 

Please bubble wrap this fragile heart.

I’m freefalling. Watching the sky fawning

its love all over the dawning dayfall,

and the ground is getting closer.

I don’t want this feeling to shatter,

causing shards to pierce this soul of mine.

 

It was never meant to be, it was

just like the sunlight crawling

all over me. I could feel it

climbing in through the pores of my skin.

I was stood in dripping liquid shadows,

in a haze. Eyes glazed as I was exploring

the void inside this dazed mind,

then loves exquisite light washed away

the grey, washed away the night,

and the world exploded into colour.

 

The void was not devoid of beauty,

it was a grand plateau of imagery,

like a cosmic starscape, and in the

halo of a supernova burst I saw

the beauty of your heart, and my

eyes couldn’t look at any other.

 

I looked, I saw, I heard and I explored.

Every word your lips poured,

every insight, every slipped line,

every goodnight, every smiled hi.

Every time you layered more of your story out for me.

Every time you laid your heart on the line.

All I wanted was to lay beside

and feel every curve of every word,

like a blade swishing through the darkness

letting the light burst out.

A dawn chorus of colour.

 

I held on tightly to every moment.

Every sentence felt like an awning

keeping the sky from falling,

and to make the heart keep yearning.

I balanced on the edges of lines left

hanging

and the sight I saw flawed me.

I was unable to move.

So completely absorbed

in the beauty of you.

 

Every bunched nerve

tangled within, gripping my organs

and holding them

in a hug that could out warm the sun.

Roots all branching uncontrollably through

every part of this internal temple,

and I felt whole. Full and true.

Every emotion within tingling

and my thoughts will not stop singing.

An orchestra with a 20-piece choir

just to add to the joy, and I let them all in.

placing down welcome mats and party hats

for all who enter.

 

So. now I’m falling,

please bubble wrap

this fragile heart

before I hit the ground,

and let the sound of hope

provide a safety net

to catch any stray pieces.