Passion

I don't know you and yet i need to speak
when it is all there is left to do

like a hot air balloon dropping sand in order to rise
I need altitude to survive.

I was once right on high
thin bones memorizing keys

A maddening calm fashioned me one day.
Focus slid from me like sweat from half an empty glass
and all I'd see is the bottom mimicking me
in a stand still.

And I fought for you,
passion,
as a light house fights for a boat to save,
or a path wishes a soul to claim.
I prayed for you
'till I realized you weren't a force
but a tool.

A man is forever broken but one must
keep tuning the strings,
and rotating the engine.

The moments don't matter but what you make of them
and are you wasting them?
Wishing you were other parts and
better tools?


I've learned few small things in my short life.
When you use distractions,
whether they be pleasures, suppressors, or fillers
it is because you are afraid of life.
You know the contract of life.
You want to believe it's no good.
Yet down, down you know
there
is nothing else you know
and your legacy lies in all your doubts and fears
so you run to stay the way
you are today.

I feeling nothing today
and come to an agreement with tomorrow
and leave my footprints for the next
and hope I taught those footprints to be free
to live beyond the legacy of me
and become something more than
the pleasures, suppressors, and fillers
ever allowed me to be.