Brighter, always brighter
It is slowly making me blind
As happy as I am for you
I can't seem to help but feel
Like the shadow of my being
Is disintegrating the more you shine.
I'm not sure how to break it to you
But one day I'm going to have to turn away
Brighter, always brighter
Come forth all those times missing
The first being Me
Me who comes from the West
The ultimate place of the past.
Who be the second but he?
The one from below--South!
The only present we should ever gift.
And she, the third
Who floats from above,
The North who breathes infinity into our lungs.
And now we just need our fourth: You
Who isn't quite here yet
Because the East is where our future lies
How cruel that you managed to shut her mouth
from which she spills her heart
& blinded her eyes
from which she drank your grief.
You're killing more of her dreams
than failure ever could.
That damn man under the moon.
He must've smiled when he tied that red string
Thinking there could have been a 'we'
For Time to ultimately shake its head no
& with a pair of star crossed scissors, severed our fate.
Just like that you were gone before dawn resurrected
--It seems like destiny decided we didn't deserve another day.
"Help! Please save us!" they cried and two ropes dangled down from the sky.
With a glance at each other, the brother and sister each took a line and climbed.
They climbed and climbed until they don't remember climbing anymore.
They didn't even remember they had been anything else but the moon and sun.
At least twice a year they meet during what we call the solar eclipse.
It is during this short period they are able to talk.
"How have you been?" the brother would ask.
"Not bad," Said the moon, "But its becoming so painful always seeing the dark"
"What do you mean?" asks the sun.
"In the dark, horrors happen. People kill and are left where its cold-It must be
oh so nice during the day when the world is lit up"
"Sister," Says the sun, "The day is not much better. People still do those things"
Night or day, its only ever been but a function of time and an angle of light or things that are bright.
I never did quite understand the potato.
Such a silly looking food staple
With an equally silly name.
If I were to be a food--
I'd like to be a thin slice of veal,
a Guiness double chocolate cake,
or even something like sesame soy flank.
Yet in the end
I'm quite just like the potato
who cannot escape its fate:
Plain and tasteless raw
But with potential of such variety
When it comes to being shaped
by a pair of weathered hands;
the chef from either above or below.
Thanks for the offer--for opening a door
One thats never existed until you.
I can smell a different world wafting through
& when I peek in, I can see all the "What Ifs..."
Yes, thanks for the offer--a wonderful one, indeed.
But I'm going to have to decline
For I've got a closet full of skeletons
Who I've got to keep inside