These are poems written when I couldn't access my blog. The last one is probably my favorite, though none are, in my opinion, by any means good.

I lost my name
amongst the reeds, in the bulrushes.
I called out with a
voiceless breath, in search
of security.
But all I see
and all I feel
is this nameless plague.
Decayed identity--
wasted life.

---------------------------------------------------------

I am here on the precipice of
something deep, something celestial.
It was a rocky path to arrive
where I am now; was it worth
fighting for?

Indeed, my destiny is supremely uncertain--
for we are but boulders, jagged rocks
balanced precariously on the edge of our lives.
We are expected to fall, to smash
at the bottom of the canyon--to shatter.
We are disillusioned and led to this cliff
by false pretenses. And we are pushed by
an invisible force, the combination of our
too-large dreams and the false hopes
instilled by those that surround us.

But I--I plan to roll on, past the
widow's peak, past the point of no
return, until I have traveled so far
that my path has become razor thin.

And I will fall--oh, yes--but
my legacy will live on as inspiration.


---------------------------------------------------------

Foray, sachet, --
you dance quite gracefully.
But it is more--
You are more
than a simple dancer.
You are passion,
deepening with every deliberate step,
growing more weighty with fatigue.
You are poetry,
moving in metered lines,
counting each step in rhyme.
You are love itself!
enticing my heart to move along with you,
serenading me with the scentless perfume
of your dark eyes.

And yet,
you are moving away,
sulking in a black corner,
believing yourself to be in love,
fooled by a heart half as amorous as mine.
O Passion! O Poetry! O Love!
Good night.
And when you awake, you will be sore,
not from dancing so much,
but from leaving behind
God knows what.