To the Owl

I want to write letters to you.
Telling you how strong and brave you are;
And how I wish I could be like you,
Or even, be you…

How odd that our lives always seem better from the other side
Of the one-way mirror.

How unfortunate too,
That you will regard my words as fiction
And leave my messages unread.

Perhaps I do not bring better memories,
Or, I am the unpleasant reminder;
Ignorance keeps me the unwanted spector
An unhappy spectator.

Regardless, the gears must turn,
And the falcon must return to the sun;
Lest the whole world should come undone.



In the quiet of my mind, I have no need
To justify, to explain, to defend.
It’s just my thoughts, my knowledge
My complete and utter trust,
My complete and utter devotion.

The chess board floats in the koi pond;
Don’t be shy, approach the zen garden,
And comb the sands for diamonds;
The flame flickers in the brazier,
Sharpen your tools and wait.

Whose fault? Your fault.
Fault is a line, and a line is the distance
Between two points.


I am so tired.
Tired of messages left unresponded;
Tired of conversations left unfinished.
Tired of people pretending to care.
Save me now or leave me untouched.
I was just fine before you arrived,
I’ll survive your aftermath.

I’m standing in the doorway-
Should I shut the door?

Honesty is pale.
Treat it gently and just maybe
I can become we.

Overly Absorbed

I could sit and stare for hours.
Hypnotized by the flow of paint across the canvas.

Your hand directing the flowing colors like a director of a play-
Everything must be in place. Yet it looks so effortless…

I could be jealous of your dedication, but I am simply awe-inspired.
Should I sit from afar? Watching like a desperate disciple?

Should I pick up my brush once more?
Or should I continue with the ink?

Or should I discard them all and dedicate
To the instruments that beckon, and the tunes that sing?

Would that I had ten limbs and ultimate dexterity
To dedicate myself to all the arts that summon me.

Only half a brain to the arts, the remainder to logic
And whence shall I send these numbers and stratagems?

Writhing with indecision, how can I possibly master one-
When I am, in turns, distracted by each of the others?

Am I to be blessed with the aptitude to do all-
And, yet, be cursed to master none?

Patience and dedication, perch on my shoulders
Breed content and resolution to the tears in the fabric of my indecision.

Teach me to care and be grateful, to not care and be discontent,
Teach me the bridge between calm and chaos…

Bring me Ethos.
Bring me… the Horizons.

Ohhhh, Dear NAIVE…

I don’t know whether to hug you or hit you,
I almost think you’re pulling my leg;
You can’t really be this naive
Can you?

I don’t know whether to save you or hang you,
I can’t stand the decisions you make;
You can’t really be this dumb
Can you?

I can’t decide whether to let you walk off the ledge
Or stop you in your tracks;
I can’t wake you up from those
Hearts in your eyes.

Stupid is your shield and ignorance your creed,
But being gullible isn’t an excuse;
You still belong on my table
Carved up like a steak.

The more you talk, the more my fingers itch,
My fingers, your necktie, so much quieter…
How can you not understand how the world
Really works?

You still think that justice is more than just a word?
That good and bad guys are different guys
And that your “vote” actually matters?

You have such a punchable face…
How can you carry around
That disgrace of a brain that’s
Never been used?

I admit that I am a cynic by nature
But experience and history play a role;
It’s quite painful for me to listen
As you prattle on.

Ah… dear naive, how can you possibly live in this world?
Vulnerable and coy, prey to be destroyed;
The predators are everywhere, please learn
To fake it soon.