Synchronized Utopian Idyll

It was a dynamic inquisition,

Without a single word misspoken,

It was a dynamic synchronization,

Where not a word went unspoken,

                       Inspiration doused me full,

                       Caressed me and kept me still,

                       Drenched head to toe,

                       But in the end, not a soul would even know

It was a dynamic inquisition,

Without those awkward moments of intervention,

Not an abstraction spun; not a vice untouched,

It was a masterful interjection,

Where only a pause disconnected being from breathing

Where only the pause separated hear from here,

As time progressed

I felt red to have previously guessed

Things would’ve gone differently than they would,

Thinking there’d be an intense transition

As I waited for the lies to come

     But they never came, nor ever could

     Not a lining torn or a truth made of elastic

     It was the deepest of revelations

     As each question produced an answer,

     Where each sound to slip away beneath parched tongue,

     The more it continued, a voiceless man I therein became

And you somehow understood, you somehow understood things about me, that even I couldn’t comprehend

        

                  To have been given so much respect

                  From someone I could not have ever known

                  To have been treated like an equal,

                  From someone filled with so much devotion

                  Giving me the honor of unparalleled recognition

                  Those words, those words—

Could only serve as stones—thrown

Across such stillness—skipping forever on and on and on—

Until we each found our Om

In whatever it was

That circumstance just happened to have

In this space most precariously spun.

A Fraudulent Decay

Inspirations

For an otherwise

Uninspired world.

Stagnation mates with ennui,

Trigger offends frame.

Desperation reeks of fear

Grinning in contempt

Decay

We all do

Some late, some soon,

Some in peace,

And then there are the others,

Those that will eventually find themselves

Prematurely exhumed

Or dispatched as they’ve lived,

A fraudulent canvass is a canvass nonetheless

Destiny

Destiny is desperate for attention

It likes to rub our noses in the predictions, the failures we are all too familiar with,

Those we recognize, much too effortlessly, as the consequence of our limitations

It appreciates the wind and breeze,

The aural quality to a storm filled summers’ night,

The sounds comfort spells to children stirred in fright

Beyond designation, sexless and inherently correct, destiny is a classification unto itself,

It loves the delicate nature of creation,

How a simple greeting planted in one’s ear

Can steer a conversation

Dictate a lifetime to follow

For good or worse

The experiments it plays on us,

Are always unrehearsed,

It is neither from darkness nor from light

Just a figure ever present, burning bright,

Guiding, leading, beginning, ending,

All creatures, great and small, are pawns and pieces

In the never ending game it plays, awake or sleep,

Wrong or right, it changes the rules of the fight,

Altering the strategies, adding and removing, integrating the challenges,

That test the will of man, obstacles he must overcome, in order to survive,

It endlessly monitors, every thought, every action, in this confusion each of us play