16 06 2011

I stand at an entrance,

by open doors.


Objects are less dim here,

in light of the kind light.

Illumination comes not

from one sole source

on which life depends

or whose intensity blinds.

The light here is tempered,

kind on the eyes



always the same,

akin to daylight.


Everything is diluted here:

no intenseness

no extremes.

Hope is faint

but so is despair.

Darkness is tempered

but so is the glare.

An intricate balance:

bitter sweet,

repulsive delectable

mundane sublime

minute magnanimous

oblivious cognizant

forceful frail

anxious trusting

potent vulnerable

excruciating blissful.


It is not easy to live here

but it is possible.

There are no illusions here,

no fairy-tales

or ever afters.

Nothing is pain-free here

or without cost.

One falls here,

scrapes one’s knees.

One bleeds here,

but not to death.

One wavers here,

but teeters not

for nothing here is absolute,

No decision mortal

no step eternal.


One acknowledges here

and admits defeat.

One attempts here

and prays for the best.

One befriends patience here

and acceptance meets.

One respects the unknown here

and prospects greets.

One sees only today here

and facts appreciates.


One is fortified here

by one’s flawed peer.

One’s hunger for acceptance

is satisfied by one’s needy twin.

One brackets judgments here

and boxes fear.


My head is not as heavy here

or crowded.

My outlook: forward

instead of down.

My pupils are focused.

Absent my bleak gaze,

I can see other ways.



My shoulders are broader here

and more accepting.

The holes in me,

shot and bullets,

yet I still breathe



I know not what to name here.






I like here.




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