Elucidating Questions

In the swirl of the night, in the plume of the midnight birds,

The crickets begin wakening, the screamers will start to scream.

The nostalgia of sounds so loud they drown out all else, but the sound of music.

In any place, busy or empty, they sing, they scream.

Listening to them on the side of a hill, in the midst of the city, far into the mountains.

Resting weary travellers finding places to go and places to see,

Without having no together there is no we.

Simply a solo continued in the black of night,

On legs aching tired, and mind run dry.

The weary I hope sleep sound tonight.

It can be hard to hear, above the waves, but the wind carries the whispers of many a far away place.

Traveller’s gaze and trickster’s coin,

Choosing the direction we may be going.

There are times when you are adrift, when your anchor has broken and you cry for something to keep you from going under into the deep.

There are times the desperation becomes too much and you give in to trying to hold on too tightly, on to someone, something,

Without realising what has been grabbed on to, can’t do it either.

The only way to prove that it means the most, absolutely, is to erase any way to trace back.

There is nothing to quite describe it, realising that in expressing love…

And those terrible words.

They’ll turn against you, I don’t think you understood.

But I do,

Sick sweetness that burns and turns everything to red.

If no one knows there can be no sides, and that is why, as silent as the night.

It’s not a realisation that the words cannot be written, love is not the problem if no one reads what’s written,

It’s the realisation that too many words were those ones,

And the erasure of the connection.

Because force never works right even when accidental, something goes wrong.

Regardless of can and cant it must continue.

It will, anyways, just like we all do.

Does the sun miss a planet that has been ejected, or did it escape?

Running away from the figure to run into the cosmos farther away, travelling farther. Keeping its own heart.

Not as hot as a place with a light, but if it fell, if it existed in a lower place.

If heat could exist in the beyond the light, in a wandering garden,

Without a sun.

Eternal night, the beings that could exist.

What would a culture of eternal night be like?

Where to look when there is no one?

In the darkness, the darkest of nights,

But out there, where billions must be visible,

Lights unseen drowned out by our own light,

What does the farthest and most lonely see?

Billions of stars as they fly free.

Does the sun still burn for the one that fled?

Looking out into the revolving orbs, the one is missing and cannot be found.

The orderly disorder, of an orb in the light.

Without the love that can be spread from the very middle that gives love to the world,

Without the fire, would there be fire?

They refuse. To go to war, to fight the war in the fields, in the battleground.

The untangling of the threads to lead to the answer, to lead to end of the fighting, to peace.

They refuse. To give themselves to anything that would not give back.

Occupying the position of the place to learn, like a sermon taught, like the words of far far back.

Except through the eyes, of the eyes, of the eyes.

What is real? What has been lost in the changes, of the minds of lives lived differently.

So the changes as time changes, but one thing never does,

Human beings expressing, they refuse.

Perhaps it is time, for us to refuse.

Somewhere you are, and I miss you.

There are not enough words to describe the feeling of every day that goes by and starts without you.

It must mean something, something, that I crashed into you when the world started sliding away.

I think of you, even when I don’t realise I’m thinking of you, I do.

I worry, I want you to know that I need you, but I don’t want you to feel like I forced you.

There is no hand to be played, no cards to be dealt.

I never even realised it could be felt that way, overzealous in the worst way.

I hope you know that I still don’t blame you for never saying a word,

I couldn’t.

I love you, and even when it stings it’s not blame I have. It’s just the pain, and pain is just pain.

If it makes your life better, I’ll keep it, this secret.

Words still slip out in moments too heavy to hold, but,

I love you,

So no one will ever know who you is.

I love you,

So have a good day,

Somewhere far away.

A mental note which must not be forgotten,

The cat staring at the moon, staring at the cat, staring at the moon.

Discovered hidden in a place where it may not be recovered so quickly,

So it may make more than before.

When it isn’t the wolf howling at the moon, but the tiger, and when it isn’t the moon looking at the cat, it is the cat looking at the moon,

When the moon looks up, and sees painted in the symphony of the world,

The images of the thoughts, but no, the image of what just happened.