I understand the impermanence of life, of relationships,
And I guess as each word I write that fills the void, the need for interaction,
There is so much conversation in my mind, impermanent and
Ever talking to self, as if the foreplay in my headspace,
Speaks outwardly onto the world, contemplatively.

All the while, I am silent, inside I am brewing a novel
Waiting to be read, every syllable waiting to be caressed into a parable.
As I learn to monastically understand myself, to transcend into enlightenment,
My old self dies inwardly, and anew becoming the chants echoing onto the vastness of time, of space.

I wish I had known to follow the flight of the Kingfisher,

In his mouth resembling the taro in this woven basket I carry, he cradles his dinner in his mouth looking to perch on a branch,

So he can finally digest the catch of the day.

The herons glare at a distance, stalking in curiosity, behind coconut trees, as still as statues, almost as if at a single step the Pacific would dry up into a desert;

the palms turning into cacti with thorns as unforgiving as the current that pulls the tide.

This King, ruler of the sea and skies, as majestic as the eagle, his wings ablue, reflecting the ocean inside me, I wish I had taken his flight.

I wish I could be a king.

I’m lost, love.

I try so hard and I do everything I can, love.

It doesn’t seem enough and you push me away.

Like every time I feel closer and just when I thought I’ve come ashore in your mind,

I’m swept away.

Let me dock upon the pier of your heart.

Let me rest upon your shallow channel, love.

I know the tides are high and your guard is up.

I am no stranger to piracy, but it is not in my intentions to set sail again.

I’ve found the treasure to be you, love.

I wrote myself a song today

I don’t quite remember the melody or

The words, but the song comes to me in

My chest, humming in my veins, moving

My arms to wrap around my hips to sway

In motion, in dance, in nervous taps

My legs constantly restless, anxious.

This song so sad and melancholy like

A minor chord, carrying the tune of

My life, no progressions or reprise,

Just one note over an impatient metronome

Catching up to me

Off beat