The place in which he lived

He clutches it tight.

The walls paper thin, but no light is let in.

Buried inside, its secrets sit entrapped and out of view.

Easy to carry around, not a struggle for you.

On the outside, its appearance remains the same.

Same color, same face.

All seems well.

But its wings are sealed shut, only opened to fill with what you conceal.

The weight thickens. It can no longer fly.

You can hardly hold what's inside.

Your grip starts to abandon your lifeless hands.

The final descent of it all begins.

The wings unravel.

The secrets escape.

It crashes to the ground.

Destroyed and crumbled, flattened.

A box when closed let's in no light.

When the fear settles in

The fear enters the blood stream -- my veins harden at the thought.
The doubt sews and ties the wires up above, but short circuits abound.

Smoke clouds sight.
It's no wonder it's called the nervous system.

Too negative. Too destructive. Too worried.
About a state of mind that tends to takeover.
A state I only tell you about,
for others eyes would roll at the suggestion.

About worry itself.
It's perhaps my greatest fear of all.
About why sitting still is one of life's impossibilities.
About why silence is often too loud. Too worried.

Front Row Seat

I wonder what you wonder when you wander off.
Your beautiful mind must see all the colors,
hear all the sounds,
connect them all with the stories you create.

As we circle the tracks,
the warm Autumn air trickles and lifts the soft hair from your head.
Each shining strand for every reason I've fallen in love.

I look at you while you admire the tunnel of trees - green.
Amazed at the changing colors - yellow.
Listening to all the sounds - choo choo, click clack.
They're all here for you, as I am, and you are for me.

Son, you are my universe and I am grateful to be in your orbit.
I circle you as we circle round this place, this day, this life.

You were first in line, as always.
The blue torn bench behind the engineer,
but no matter wherever this train goes, fast or slow,
I'm the one who gets to have the front row seat.

Lose Our Way

It felt like the days melted together,
like the way the fire burned through people's lives.
Like broken hearts forced to connect,
bonded by the will to survive.

Dizzy, I leave a week that felt like a month.
I question why we are surrounded by luck when others are crushed by despair.

The air so thick, it makes it hard to breathe.
A night darkened by evil makes it hard to see.

Where can we even go from here?
What's the point of moving on?
Some questions never find their answers no matter how much time moves along.

A clock is a funny way to tell time because it's always the same.
But sometimes time moves slow, turning hours into days.
Sometimes time moves fast, reminding us not to lose our way.

Firefly

Each bulb is a firefly in the sky,
twinkling just enough to remind me of why.
Why we do what we do, and who we do them for.

I sit on the edge of a dark pier,
past the point of where the waves break,
the force shaking the pillars more and more each time.

The clear night stars only matched by the lightning storm in the distance,
brightening the earth's edge for just a moment,
fast enough you can't blink.
Slow enough to remember.

I've never seen anything like this night sky contradiction,
and I'm sure I won't again soon,
but this may be as close to heaven on Earth as I can imagine,
and I'm privileged to call this place some distant home.

Where my grandfather was given life,
not far from where my grandmother was given hers,
on the night before I finally see where my father was given his to understand how mine was given to me.
What a life. What a sight. What a storm.

All Our Own

Two kids in a wild world that was all our own.
A world shaped by musical notes and a curiosity.
A place where love can sleep still, above the trees.
We're always covered even on the wildest of days.

We didn't know any better, and we didn't care to.
Our way was the only way we needed.
I still see us through rose-colored lenses, serene and blooming.
And on any day less than immaculate, I know we'll wipe away the fog.

Our home has become wherever we are, all our own.