it is midnight in my soul
the dark of a clear night
the gentle wind
that settles my thoughts
the peace of knowing
that I am alone

but I am afraid
in the shadows lurk
distractions of unhappy ends
am I alone
or will I wish I was?
my own thoughts ensnare
trap me with promises
that I will never escape

the fear blinds me
like a lightning bolt
cutting through my peace
heralding a storm
the breeze is a gale
tossing me hopelessly

I’m struggling with
My identity.
I just can’t seem to
See what
You see
I’m starting to fear
What others think
Of me.
Do they think
I’m weird?
Do they think
I’m strange?
Maybe over the top
In my emotions.
Or maybe it’s what
I say
That’s just
Odd.

How could they still
Like me?
Why do they still
Talk to me?
What do they
Think about me?
Do they look at me funny?
Do they secretly wish that
I wouldn’t talk to them?

close my eyes
so the bridge from
my nose
to
yours
subsides
all these,
tides, changing tides
uproot
it
what grew
between us
now dies
hi
whispered words
so warm
to dissolve
my ice
the black kind
that you don't know
exists
until your
tires
—when you'd been
so sure
you were fine—
start to skid
and I lift
my fingers
to find
that fabric at your neck
and press
where
your pulse
soft heartbeat

~ WARNING!!! This poetry spoils the plot of "Out of the Silent Planet" by C.S. Lewis. If you haven't read the book, then I recommend it to you. If you have read his book, then I hope you enjoy this poem :) ~

Kidnapped by bent men
And placed in their ship,
Through the heavens Ransom flew
On a rather long trip

When they arrived on our planet,
On our lovely landscape,
Ransom thought everything
Looked strange and out of shape

He fled from the hnakra
And the sorns who
The bent men tried
To give him to

So much of life
To be cherished
So much of life
To not take for granted.
God gave me a wonderful life.
Full of beauty,
Love, friends, family,
A relationship with
The Creator.

Sin, suffering, and sorrow
My three deepest fears
The three enemies of my faith
Tearing and being torn
Swearing and being mourned
Death on the horizon, I
See the third fear, and
Am surmising
That soon I must
Say goodbye
And my world will go on
Where his ended
My life will move on
Where his didn’t
And then from that pain I turn
I see another man
Who’s life was burned
By the first enemy
By his own choice he
Destroyed a name
He squandered his voice
To play a game

You
Are my music
Without you my world is
Cold and
Gray
My thoughts are
Stale
A flatline of
Empty static
But with you I
Sing for joy
With
You, I
Bask
In the beauty that is time
I don’t mind the mundane
Because with
You
The mundane is more than
Bearable
It is rendered
Beautiful, by
Your sunshiny melody
Your thoughtful
Lyrics
And the rhythm
Of your
Heart
With you, I
Need
No other
Song

Now I have seen the lights of foreign ports —
Strange constellations to my wondering eyes —
And gazed on glittering golden royal courts,
Bright mirrors of the sun beneath the skies.

And in the warmth of homes in frozen lands
By glowing hearth fires I have broken bread,
And in the northern sky I’ve seen the dance
That living flames in strange wild measures tread.

Have you ever heard someone jokingly say "It rhymes so it must be true!"?
I need hardly say that the point of the joke is to remind us that this not the case -- the fact that a statement rhymes is unrelated to its veracity.

But why do we need that reminder? Why are our minds more inclined to credit rhyming lines?

I think it's because we're always looking for connections -- we're always keeping a look out for what goes together, to find the order built into creation which sometimes seems blanketed in a cloud of chaos.

Serenity sets the mood
A misty and quiet groove
Fireflies light the darkened path
And crickets chirp their tunes
The moon has given its white-washed bath
Of perfect silver lunar charm
And stars wink down on forrest line
Leaving no room for pitch alarm
Darkness is friendly
When accompanied by light
And shielded by hooded figure fair
For she walks only when the sun is gone
Exuding depth, the shallows beware
She glides along the shadowed path
And lingers at the foothill, long