I am the ceiling fan

I am the ceiling fan,

circling fast, but remain in one place.

The white noise it emits imitates 

the neverending thought process.

It spins up high, alone from the rest of anything. 

Everything is what I aspire to to be.

It is a lonely thought, one of selfish characteristics.

Built on the wishes of good intentions.

It's hard not to spin and twirl with ideas of something closer.

Though closeness is what I feel wherever we are.

You are the mount that holds me steady as I spin, spin, spin.

My blades can cut deep.

Electricity is a fuel that recreates itself.

I'll never slow until someone cuts it off.

My mind is the motor, creating movement.

The dust are mistakes made along the way.

14 degrees

And at this frigid Denver hour,

I am simply grateful for a warm home,

a safe home, blankets and a bed.

Thankful for four walls and heat,

a pillow to rest my head.

Thankful to share it all with you

in this place we call ours.

Accept

The music notes float over to my ears.

The Christmas tree flickers out of focus as I write, as I recall 

the chaos in a world that moves quicker than ever

on the other side of the window behind me.

There lies the anger.

So. Much. Anger.

Capitalized by those who know what fear becomes.

Taken in by those who don't.

They live among us, uniformly uninformed, almost proud of it.

But the anger. Why does it exist?

Accept. Accept. Accept.

Except to accept, for some, is too painful, confusing, anger-worthy.

Will we learn? Will we learn we must always learn?

It is, by far, the only way to live, to progress.

In a world where only God can judge, we champion the art.

It is easier to include, to think outside the box.

It's easier to love, to laugh, to...

Accept. Accept. Accept.

429B

Three numbers and a letter hang from an old wooden post,

the same I used to hang from years ago.

They ask me what I remember.

I remember everything.

Remember the times we'd rest on the tops of the grass,

staring up as the leaves fell down around us?

Oh, how we'd throw those brown dead spiky balls

we'd pick up and throw as far as we could.

Recall how we'd jump from the porch and onto the lawn,

running so Tom wouldn't catch us. We had it all.

Back and forth in the rocking chair, backpack on the side.

Remember the TV, waiting for you to come.

Three numbers and a letter hang from an old wooden post,

the same I used to hang from years ago.

They ask me what I remember.

I remember everything.

Up ahead!

Sometimes it's hard to look ahead
when the cityscape is clouded
in a sheet of gray.
Is this where we will remain?

But the future's a funny thing
in that if you know what it looks like
it may distract from the present
and never reveal itself.

Don't look down.
Never look down.
Feel free to look ahead
but don't you dare move your feet.

Hold the clock's hands
knowing one day they'll let go,
but do it only knowing
you held them well.

Too fast?

The wind whistles underneath the balcony door.

I hope it doesn't wake you.

My day ends peacefully when I know you're sleeping safely.

The days seem to blur together lately.

I'm the cold wind blowing below a door.

Impossible not to stare into the distance, looking for a place to slow down.

One day, I'll learn to live in the moment,

to live a moment,

but I'm living this one with you

seeking to live our next one.

Someday, I won't be the wind sliding speedily through the door.

I'll be the breeze on a warm beach day,

holding your hand, and theirs.

Silhouettes

I know one day

I'll pick a blade of grass

in the front or backyard

and know it was worth it.

With the silhouette

of children running around,

as their big heads

shine in the sunlight.

I'll be free of the cloud

I currently float in,

coasting atop a world

seemingly so far away.

I'm tired. 

I know I'm young, but I'm tired.

I know this is what I want,

but I'm tired.

I miss you.

More with each day, each hour.

I miss us. I miss time.

I miss you.

Your sacrifice is a daily one.

I'm not deserving of your love,

but I cherish it, even when it feels

like I'm so far away.

It's all part of a plan

to spend our lives

somewhere where we can

be happy.

So that I can lie down,

pick a blade of grass,

watch the kids with you in front of me,

and know it was all worth it.

My lack of control is out of control

Thoughts pour in.

My mind floods with thoughts on your thoughts.

This is what I do.

What else did you think?

Hard to sleep.

Eyes half-full of water.

They can't shut.

I can't shut out the thoughts of the day.

But I'll learn. Yes. I. Will.

Don't doubt

Everything you are exudes everything you are.

The talent, smarts and skills get shown to the faces that matter.

They see you, I promise.

Doubt may fill whatever thoughts you have left.

But don't forget the confidence hiding underneath.

Bring it out. It's beautiful to see.

The world is yours. It's only a matter before it realizes.

I can't wait to see you hold it in your hands.

Sweet Pea

Heavy are the eyes of this young man.
Old as can be, I close each lid.
Instantly, the space mountain star field surrounds me.
Can I just float away?

Will you come with me?
Let's fly from star to star.
There is only one universe.
No one else I want to explore it with.

"Not THAT McCarthy."

His shelter is thin, a line between him and the star field that floats overhead.
It'll be 26 degrees in the tent come morning.
He'll say that's warmer than normal.
His hat says he served.

It sits atop the aged Navy man flipping through a library book.
Some words are too new to understand, as is his current life.
Joe and his wife are going on two weeks on the edge of a Colorado lake.
Rent merely a small fee to pitch an old tent.

The wind's too high to start a fire.
If you ask him why they stay, he'll ask you where they can go.
If you ask him when they'll leave, he'll tell you it's when a paycheck can be earned.
If you ask him for a word, he'll give you plenty.

Her Strength

You are stronger than you think.

I see it all the time.

It's shown to me every day

in a kiss and a smile.

I try to thank you, but I fail.

There's little I can do

but make sure I treat you well.

Do I?

In my endless, spinning world

you are my steady hand,

grabbing me, holding me,

touching me, helping me.

You grasp me strongly,

because that's who you are.

You show me every day

in a kiss and a smile.

Snow Sand

What's left of the snow
floats across the ground.
It spins around the cars
like sand in a gust.

The ice is so deadly,
and it's easy to feel invincible
when you're coasting through
at an even deadlier speed.