I float behind my eyes,
I'd drift but
I can't shift
From the self-same perspective
Peeping out from behind my eyes.

My mind is malleable
In extraordinary ways
What seems extraordinary to me
That my deepest held convictions
Might be infringed on
Day by day
By interlopers, mere words
That with repetition and rapture
Would have the power of right.
Waves of words
Pull at the context
Until I'm dizzy from standing still
And my soul aches
For the pain in every case.

The visceral memory
Of Emotions
Amazes me
That perception of an event
                         of a voice
                         of a place
Triggers a chemical reaction
And stimulates the brain
Does not explain nor express
The pressing of excitement
On the diaphragm
Or the heavy hanging of regret
From the spine
And every emotion
Feels physically different
But equally overwhelming in a moment
Emotions must be the
Forces of my nature.

Limits are good
For all that free will is fine and dandy
Limits and laws are necessary
And blessed relief
To keep our sanity installed
Only imagine a life
With nothing but choices
Of not only who to be
But even what how and where
Without the physical factuality of science
And the legal labyrinth
That we love to criticize
Imagine what power
Each person must hold
That power would be the heaviest gravity of all
Each person might be pinned to themselves
And so I thank my God
For the necessity of sleep
And the constancy of walking on the ground
For all the choices I can't make

These voices
    their tone
    their diction
Where do they come from?
From where do they draw their knowledge?
What is their source material?
There voices that say
    You are beautiful
    You are valuable
    You are essential
They can hardly be talking about me
Let alone spring from me
The bigger mystery
Why do I believe them
Implicitly
And so readily

Life is a quest for feeling
But what sensation has the middle of the middle
The Middle of the Middle
With no Great Gift
Nor any curse
With no plight or curse or mission
Only every reason to be ever happy
What then
What feeling
But a straightline of
Obliged contentment
Which should, aright, be sweetest
Bliss
But what if sign
Of Surest failure
Of Heart
Of Body Mind and Soul
Where one acts not enough
To achieve the pain of
Important matters
Torn away
And Truly failed
With nobility.

I need my forever and after
Because I am a creature of pain
And I need a purpose
This need doesn't diminish
My Forever into a
Figment of depair
It is not created of me
But I of it
A small strand of Eternity
To be knotted and frayed
And woven
To Be
To Become
To Continue
To Consecrate
The Pain that matters
Not just for hope
But Inherent meaning
In the Vibrancy and Death
Of Life.