We live today
for an unknown future,
while memories
flash clues,
remembering only
what matters.
We live today
for an unknown future,
while memories
flash clues,
remembering only
what matters.
You are who I write for,
who I think of,
who I compare to,
when I write.
You are the audience,
the critic,
and the protagonist
in my stories.
You are found,
when meaning is buried,
and when truth
is elusive.
You are my thoughts epiphany,
the kiss in my passion,
the seducation in my eyes,
and the guilt in my stomach.
You are the ink in my pen,
the keys on my keyboard,
and the punctuation
in my grammar.
You are the author,
the director,
the producer,
and I am the actor
playing your part.
Is it any wonder
the world is in conflict
when we continue to speak
in universals and absolutes,
as if truth was known
and reality was witnessed.
These ultimatums
draw lines in sand,
that need not
divide us.
Language,
used irresponsibly
and clinically,
determines right and wrong,
left and right.
Pigeonholed,
and categorised,
we subject ourselves
to walls,
when all we need is
empathy and compassion,
not violence
and intolerence.