Put a stone in my shoe,

walk a mile or two

and let the cold air brace me,

take me far from nothing

to something else entirely.

And the sun shines in uncovered eyes

my breath takes on it's own life

burning muscles tear against the ground

somehow I'm running and chasing the clouds.

Wind up bleeding, breathing hard

and the feet are in pain, there's a dagger in my heart

and somehow I'm suffering all over again

found through the pain, and grounded again.

Clinging on to life, precious blood and movement

even in routine there can be sanctification

somehow all roads lead to home

and the fire in the sky guides my walk by night

as I hold on to that which rends me and

lends me a perspective that I hope to understand.

When you're living still there is no loss that can take you

until the time comes to go over that final hill

and be acquainted with the maker.

Oh, the faith it takes to live that way,

and the trust that comes with answers

undeniable guideposts and bring purpose to pain

so we only suffer shortly.

We will only suffer shortly.

It was something I never looked inside, but something I always saw with her, until a few years ago. It was a forbidden object that only a pen in her hand was allowed to add to. It was a container of peace and security for her. It was a black book that seemed more precious to her than all of the treasures that are buried under the layers of the earth.

I never had access to it until a few years ago. I have never dreamt of not opening it until a few years ago. I would never have wished to know its contents if it was a desire that I could trade with a longer life for her. I would have never wanted to read the black book if it meant that she would remain for beyond her ten years.

She was a treasure who treasured everything. She was a person who wished to know more. She was a girl who wanted to achieve. She was a sister who died too early.

Today is a day of making peace with the past. Today is a day to let her go and only keep her memory. Today is the day to open that door of her room and pack her belongings which has been gathering dust for four years. Today is the day of looking at her precious objects, reading the letters addressed to her, and opening her black book.

Her black book is filled with secrets that she knew. Her black book is filled with symbols she understood. Her black book is filled with stories that have been locked with a key that she had always kept to herself. Her black book is the book that contains inscriptions that she could decipher.

Some things will always be buried in the attic. Some people will always be buried in our memories. Some past times will always be buried for remembrance. This black book, her black book, will always be buried in my collection of memories of my sister's short life.

In the physical world, however, it will spend the rest of its existence in a box marred with tears.

People scare me

People scare me because

there's always a part of us

ready to listen to and follow through with evil

People scare me because

people talk

even when they don't listen

People scare me because

people try to empathize

when they should only listen

People scare me because

people try to understand

when they couldn't possibly ever get it

People scare me because

people listen

then make you a cautionary tale or an example

People scare me

so when I'm lost

I crawl into my head because

better the devil you know

right?

In my head,

I turn to music

and poetry

I turn to that other part of me

that wants to heal

and I speak to her

like I would speak to people.

I can't remember where I was supposed to go.

A map would have been nice, if such a map existed.

Maybe I'll be lost here, forever searching for an exit that doesn't exist.

Many people have disappeared before, but not like this.

I'm not even sure anyone would ever understand my experience.

Sometimes I consider no longer searching for an imaginary exit.

So I go to the one place that keeps me safe in this void.

I call it the Risk, and to most people it may sound dangerous.

Names can be deceiving, however.

Good thing that Risk leads to reward, and eventually, I will make an exit.

In the dusty dark night,

When everything is out of sight,

As you wander your way,

Where do you stay?

In the light of the day,

Is there something to be gained?

A life to sustain,

What is your guide?

Or must you hide?

When around the next bend,

Is where sanity ends.

Or then are you safe?

In its lonely embrace?

What is the cost?

To no longer be lost.

When I'm feeling lost I go "to my world of making it happen."To explain this I mean I take my mind to places that I am familiar with. The Prose is a family of geniuses that I feel totally comfortable with. I can express myself without trying to be someone I'm not. Coin collecting I love because there are so many errors on coins that people know nothing about. Working on my books settles my mind because I set myself a deadline to finish them.

When I'm feeling lost I go "to my world of making it happen." To explain this I mean I take my mind to places that I am familiar with. The Prose is a family of geniuses that I feel totally comfortable with. I can express myself without trying to be someone I'm not. Coin collecting I love because there are so many errors on coins that people know nothing about. Working on my books settles my mind because I set myself a deadline to finish them.

I often find myself riding out to help those that I know need the help. My mind is so busy.

When I'm lost, I'm lost to myself

Sinking into my problems

Ominously.

When I'm lost, I'm lost to everyone

Blending into the walls, my breath joins the air

Unnoticeably.

When I'm lost, I'm lost to all remedies

Naysaying every answer

Downtroddenly.

When I'm lost, I'm not found

Until I can stand out

Emergently.

When I'm found, I am

Non-sinking, -blending, or -saying

Resuscitatedly.

When I'm found, I transition

To auspicious-, noticabl-, emergent-, reviving-

Heroic-ly.

I Fly, Fly free,

So high, up in that sky,

A busy bee,

All to satisfy.

Working so hard, forgetting those enemies,

That when she decides to lie,

Surround her until she has to plea,

Making her say goodbye.

She Flys all too far,

She Flys all too close too that star,

Falling as she does.

Her sister mourns,

Her sister cry's,

Her sister warns,

Her sister dies.

Lost without the one she loves.

I choose...

The Big Emotions

I choose...

To be ignored, hated even,

rather than adored

And, no, I don't really

mean it... It is so

that I might

Suffer

it all

the more

Exquisite!

When shut up,

And Blocked,

put out from

the catacombs

where everyone

else seems

safely anchored

to the shore

I choose...

The Empty

so that I

myself

may carry

The Universal

Burden

of matching

the Socks

that endlessly

go missiling

I choose...

The welts upon

the chest and thighs

that signify

affection as

Metaphysical

I choose...

The Big Emotions

Because I must

be arrogant and proud

to know the shame

of the inadequate

in the sermons

recited during sleep

I choose...

The Big Emotions

Because the

moment

will come

that I will be called

to stand for Collection

And the One

True Testament

will put a razor

through me

and squeeze

the final drop..!

of my precipitation.

And I want to say

I gave my

everything

as I expire,

into that breadth

With no human

Feeling left.

03.02.2023

Simplicity or Complexity? challenge @akitoyu