Stillness

Just like you won't become a fish by drinking with your mouth wide open, the world would be hard pressed to call you a man with your eyes shut, hoping that one night, puzzle pieces will fall lightly in a breeze so they can come together and let you sleep, with sheets squeezed tightly. Holding back the choking coughs and sobs, lungs sounding off twenty-one shots for the battles lost to apathetics. Entire sieges of saying we loved each other when we never really meant it. Thick lipstick spouting 'not I's Like a volcano, with black clothes to convey that we'll explode like clockwork. Wandering like nocturnal mysteries blinded by the light and scrutiny of hindsight. You toss side to side like a wayward boulder. Caught halfway between things looking up and looking over your shoulder. As much as we preoccupy life with ourselves, there's always going to be a stray eye cast over everyone else, though half blinded by the dark and blurriness it beings, and the cracked windshield of thinking we know everything there is to know. You're lamenting this. Tight eyes paying a price for every elderly woman we didn't assist. We'll all be there someday, aching proudly and waiting, writing off each day as another spent regretting chances we never even thought of taking

Because the instant when inspiration nails us, arms and legs bound to a cross, will be the day that in trying to catch a fleeting sunrise, our muscles fail us, like Goliath's battle lost. You want to stop that, but this is no way to go about it. Hamlet wouldn't know his mother died if she didn't shout it. I mean, you went hiking once, but you know truthfully it never counted, because you stood still like a rabbit does, alert to every motion, but there was a stillness in those mountains that made it too terrifying to approach them. Your shaking hands like earthquakes, your shallow breath a tornado, so you chose to stay at the bottom and call it's massive shadow your shade so you could feel at least in the most insignificant sense important. Like your gift shop map telling you to see the sights, but you ignore there. You are no jagged cliff, and you are certainly no river. You can never say that you met love, but you know you did out live her. And there's a reason your heavy hearted sighs make music like a wet reed, and a reason the stubborn muscle that's your heart has grown up so atrophied. It's because we're here. With what we are fit into boxes. Taught to either wish for what we're not, or stop and cut our losses. And it might be possible to argue that neither one applies to you, but you're still going to be one or the other, or a haphazard combination of the two. We're all wanting a better planet, and if you listen long enough you'll understand that if you ever want to reach a soul on this Earth, you'll have to be ready to stand it for some scattered length of time, casting smiles as it rolls through. Because it will take a lot more heart to change the world, even more if no one asked you to. And that's where we stand. You and I and everything. The world is pulling triggers at people's heads and you're not changing anything. That doesn't meat stop caring, and I know it's hard to see, but while you can't expect to change the world, you've already changed reality