Words in Low Light

The Shape of a Man

In the quiet company of a whirling fan
I wonder what kind of man I am.
Callous, heartless and a petty breed
are at the roots of the family seed.

As I sit alone here in the darkness before the day's breaking
I wonder if I invest more in others than what I'm taking.
I think about honor and redemption from sin
Along with what is broken being forged again.

One said I hurt her with my opinions
Saying her views on a matter are stone
Drawing lines of hypocritical dominion
when my counter thoughts are thrown

She claims my thoughts belittle hers
When we clearly just disagree.
The line separating idea and identity blurs
An she proclaims there is a monster in me

I care that she was hurt by the exchange,
But were my words the thing that hurt her?
Could it be an issue already in range
That pushed a sensitivity a little further

Sometimes I question in search of reasoning
But what is perceived is abrasive seasoning.
I want to know the structural integrity of a view worth sharing
And I often find that there is nothing there of any bearing.

Am I a tyrant pushing children into the mud,
Or a gardener nurturing a maturing bud?
Am I a bully for exposing an ignorance
in an attempt to inspire a greater sense?

Emotions cloud logic creating fallacy
Yet staunch logic without heart spurns lunacy.
Balance in both are truly needed,
As I think I come across a bit conceited.

Do I sit here alone filled with self doubt?
Over analytical with a satirical pout ?
I sit and I wonder what kind of man that I am
skimming over the pages of the man I have been.

Oh How I trembled

The fingers flutter lightly across her brow, pushing her hair away
He tries to think of words to say,
but they fail him.
He seeks to speak of movement of the soul that has bestowed him
As he is near her, his heart burst to life like hungry lion at the sight of prey
the sensation is more than he could convey
All that he is, in this moment, is pulling toward her.
He is as a man with an outstretched hand
intent on recoiling a river,
The task is framed in impossibility to refrain the mighty and overwhelming urge for what is natural and beautiful.
Every atom orbiting within each cell seeks to charge to her.

He trembles,
Shaking as one would standing on the battlefield shortly after the last sword fell.
The restraint is so much more than most men would bear.
It looks like shivers in the cold,
as he struggles internally between being a man, and a good man.
He looks into her deep brown eyes and he can hear himself slipping away
HE can hear his voice slipping away
The choice between being the man that ravishes her, and the man that protects her from all wrong.

His eyes caress her lips slowly,
and in his mind he can see two futures unfold.
One that never regrets what would have unfolded, and the other that does what is righteous.
He yearns for intimacy, and yet, also honesty.
The variable of love becomes the strongest elemental component.
Will the cost of a moment, this moment, this beautiful moment, break something so priceless in time to come.

She places her hand on his face,
He melts into her embraces
He would give anything to lay down with her
He would give so much to be beside her for the sum of their days
In this second all he can think of is passion

So he leans in and kisses her sweetly
and he whispers so quietly in her ear
" I love you"
As he walks away.

And has he sits, and looks back at all the wonder and excitement he could have traveled. At the partner he would have had. At the unison.
He smiles at the truth of the matter.
That valor is sexy in itself.
And that he will protect her even from himself.

for love, is nothing without sacrifice.

The Absence of Sound

We were like wind chimes on a day without a breeze

Circling each other, slowly and patiently

Waiting for the moment where we could collide together

and become a wondrous tone

When by the slightest touch, vibrations would cascade through

Our eminent bodies.

We danced a motionless dance

With every non-step and every absence of movement,

an expression.

Every inaction, resulting in more definition than the eye could readily see.

We were apart together. Our hearts alone in unison.

Not a Morning Person

Eyes burning as I rise,
The sun the thing that I despise
An orb of obnoxious, intrusive light
Pesters me while it's sleep I fight.

Day has broken without warning,
and I'm not yet together this morning.
The sounds of birds circling overhead
Just won't let me go back to bed.

I stumble and shuffle through my place
Dripping coffee down my face
If I can get to noon I'll be fine
but God help me, its only nine.

Just Air

Just Air

Today I woke up and found my head had exploded

My brain couldn't retain the shape in which it was molded

Satirical wit; plots, plans and schemes poorly unfolded

It was most certainly quite an ugly and alarming scene

as I sat down here to look at my computer screen

Wondering if I could find words to say what I mean.

Writers block is eventually maneuvered around

That is, when you wake and your head is found.

But that obviously wasn't quite the case

When I looked in the mirror and found no face.

No beard, no eyes, no smile or sense

Nothing really of notable consequence.

A Little Self Reflection

I; myself, individually, am alive
I breath, I think, I conquer and strive
I sink in depths and soar upon heights
I savor sleep in mornings as I fight it most nights
I live with a fervor and I exemplify reserve
I am blessed beyond measure with what's not deserved
I feel the sensation of romance in a glance or a touch
I know the coldness of silence when others don't care much
I'm just a man, no other than most
I have no special charisma in which to boast
I savor silly little moments that pass so fast
As we all get caught up in our circumstance

A Fight Within a Fight

A Fight Within a Fight

Words rendered to sound
Like mortars hitting ground
Accusations filled with blame
Armed so aptly with my name
Emotion rides so high among us
and logic has no place in justice
it seems what matters most is what is felt
and that retributions dished when harm is dealt.
A call to reason is left unheard
as meaningless, treasonous, empty words

"This isn't war, we just disagree
A misfiring communication you see
I'm not here to hurt you, but I do wish to be heard"
But the pain makes distinction of battle lines blurred.
The dynamic of a friendship is never fully quite the same
with the damming of a prospective before ever knowing its name.
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