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MY BIRD

He sits at the top of the sycamore tree,

Catching sunlight and shadows in his eyes,

Bathed in the scent of the afternoon sun.

What is it that his eyes see,

When he looks out into the shapeless depths of the sky?

I long to know,

To ask him,

"How is it that you see the world?"

His face is unreadable,

Yet placid, the stare of a hawk,

Yearning.

He's always been yearning for something, he tells me --

Always.

Yes, always.

I let his words curl at the tip of my tongue,

Windswept by the autumn breeze that blows by.

He's been searching, he says.

Searching for what he yearns for.

I study his face,

The way the space between his eyes crease with thought,

How his eyes shift into mine when he turns away from the clouds.

He's always been looking into the sky.

But now he turns towards me,

Looking into my reluctant gaze, scrutinizing.

"I've been searching for her,"

The words emerge from his mouth,

Soft, wistful.

"I've been searching for my bird.

The one who will fly with me,

Share my thoughts in the sky."

My breath is caught in my throat,

My hand balanced on the rough of the tree branch,

As I quietly ask:

"And?"

I can see my face in his eyes,

His lips slowly curl into a smile,

"And I've found her."

VISION THROUGH CLOSED EYES.

There's a glow from behind these curtains,

Drawn down tightly, shielding twin windows from a world of wonder,

A world of hardships and success, bitter laughter lumped like darkened coal against unexpected joy.

Ironic.

Yet still a world of wonder all the same.

And those windows will remain resolutely curtained,

Enclosing the very heart of the room in shrouded darkness.

"Deprivation!" You solemnly cry, "Unjust isolation!"

For you are amongst your wondrous world, watching from afar,

Gazing into the worn fabric of tightly-drawn walls,

Disheartening frown pulled against your chin,

Piteous sincerity, at such disposition.

The thought fails to occur to you,

As you faintly walk away, feet rustling in fallen leaves,

That perhaps fleeting sympathy is not enough.

Behind those shut curtains,

The frail structure of weathered, rain-stained windows,

Yearning, forever yearning for the essence of life,

If just for once, to let it in.

But no, it must continue its deep sleep, dreaming,

Surrounded by the quiet haven of darkness,

Comforted in its own lonesome sorrow.

To think:

All this, only because you,

Who had chosen to walk away with the last whispers of summer,

Hadn't taken the time to enter the cold, clouded hearth,

Used little of your strength to pull open the curtains,

To the light of the afternoon sun.

You were so capable, you had been right there –

Yet you hadn't the courage to tell her –

"Open your eyes.”

THE OCEAN.

Am I alone in this?

Never a night where I can sleep myself 'till day

We must try to figure it out

Figure it out

It won't be that easy

We lost it somehow

You come over unannounced

Silence broken by

Your voice in the dark

I need you here tonight

Just like the ocean needs the waves

Oh, the night becomes the space

That's somewhere in between

What I feel and what I'm taught

Sitting on the shoreline

Trying to figure it out

Figure it out

To find out the meaning

And reach it somehow

You come over unannounced

Silence broken by

Your voice in the dark

I need you here tonight

Just like the ocean needs the waves

Fall around me now,

Like stars that shine

And brigthen the way

I need you here tonight

Just like this night

It needs the rain

The season has changed,

The wind it moves colder now, colder now

The coulds are raised,

The rain it falls harder now, all around

You come over unannounced

Silence broken by

Your voice in the dark

I need you here tonight

Just like the ocean needs the waves

Fall around me now

Like stars that shine

And brigthen the way

I need you here tonight

Just like this night

It needs the rain

Over unannounced

Silence broken by

Your voice in the dark

I need you here, tonight

Just like the ocean needs the waves

Just like the stars

That fall around me now

SALVATION

What is this feeling?

I'm floating, drifting among clouds...

No, smoke.

Is it?

It's blinding, this sense of uncertainty.

Falling into the continuous void.

The hollow aching that hung within me,

Slowly consuming.

Why did it suddenly stop?

I hadn't expected it:

I didn't know you would be there.

A hand,

Reaching through the translucent gray screen,

You stretch towards me.

It's then when I see:

Your eyes, your eyes, I can see them.

They glow, oh, how they glow,

Lone fireflies, dancing in the late summer breeze.

You close your eyes,

And yet they still glow.

That warmth surrounds me now,

A vibrating hum,

Rhythmic, silent comfort.

The clouds dissipate like cold vapor;

I listen to the grass whisper,

Held in your luminescent gaze.

Light, it liberates me.

Light...

Your glowing eyes, they are my liberation.

FROZEN SLUMBER

Suspended on the peak of a snow-capped mountain,

She waits inside, lost and distraught,

Paling in the absence of life to hear her cries.

Barefooted upon the untouched snow,

Tangled wisps of hair brushing past her hollow glare,

Harsh winds ripping at her insides,

Cold, distant and emotionless.

Holding a rigid hand up to the weeping sky,

Void of any air or sunlight,

Identity has fled from this faceless outcast.

Within a crumbling mirror, she sees her other self:

Curled delicately upon a cloud-white cloth,

Fighting for every breath she struggles to claim;

Ice-slicked petals adorn her fragile, sleeping form.

This haven she slowly constructed for retreat,

To escape from those who had harmed her,

And thrive in a world without others,

Without those to scar her already tainted soul.

Staring blankly into the distance, she is sure of it:

Here, I will be safe. Here, there is no one to hurt me.

However, it will be this very haven,

Of one that she created,

That will eventually bring her to her death.

FATEH JIO.

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