Hallways : Modern Office Atrium

So what now, can they make of this place?
All is still to do;
Location’s good, they have the space,
No effort they’ll eschew

The dreams of those who try their hand,
Another, average day;
An empty room turned into something,
That’s
The human
Way

Equuleus

(Pronounced ᵻˈkwuːliəs)


Equuleus, that tiny horse of light,
Within an eye scan of Aquarius,
Is visible tonight from in this room
Amid its larger siblings in the sky.

I stand in wondrous silence at the sight,
And look for something poor, a kindred thing
To reconcile with how is that I,
So slight, have come to know how small I am.

The infinitely frigid stretch of space,
And time itself, which we don’t understand,
All congregating here, and through these panes
All our technology seems so much noise.

We pride ourselves, and preen ourselves to shine,
The dimmest flash in all these many lights —
We dine on hubris, feast on vanity,
And strut through mud and slime like royalty.

My friend, the tiny horse, you know my heart:
The small among the great, who’s always there,
And goes without the notice that attends
With having brilliance to the viewing eye —

Let me be one who knows what I don’t know,
May I bring kindness to this life, this ride –
And add my color to the chandelier
Of songs and lights and imperfections lived.

Spent Manic Blossoms

The few, short hours that we get
To sit upon the dying grass,
The days of sunlight soon to fade,
As they, like we, are born to pass –

Habitual endearing of
Those close enough to plunder —
And this, we’ve come to glorify;
It sort of makes you wonder

A song this morning played, a song
Of love that just went wrong;
It had a beat, we danced to it,
It didn’t last that long

Then guided by our appetites
We craved the beat unceasing –
And bought what wasn’t anyone’s
For having or for leasing

It’s only life. It’s only art.
It’s only six A.M. —
The sun is shaking off its sleep,
It’s soon to rise again –

I think the sun’s benign, another
Elementary blunder;
In days that butcher who they can –
It sort of makes you wonder

The girl that’s looking straight at me
Is only eight years old;
She knows no trepidation, she
Is wild as she is bold

How can the aging father say
The young should wary be?
I turn to go about my day,
And trust posterity

Will lead her to a world of light
The world she sees before her;
I won’t pour water on her soul,
Not badger, nor ignore her

Perhaps, she is a healer, not
One made to mar or plunder —
What she could be, we should have been,
It sort of makes you wonder

Behold, the living narrative
Is spun before our eyes;
It’s there to tell us how to live,
What we should hate, or prize –

But every kind of shadow blocks
Some other kind of light;
And wear whatever mask you will
It’s coming off tonight

Insanity and vanity,
They’re our one legacy;
As we will follow slavishly
Our prized un-parity –

It kind of makes you wonder;
Then again, it just may not —
The few, short hours that we get
To sit until
We rot

Tragedy Universal

Perfecting the means, having forgotten the ends.

We’re born needing and wanting things

As we grow, we seek the power to get those things

Eventually, we seek the power
Independent of the things it can get us

And in this way,
Money is power
Sexual control is power
Violence is power
And lies are power

And the sickness comes and spreads
Not from what we do to get what we want
But from what we do
After we’ve forgotten everything
We really wanted

Beguiling Anonymity

I’m guessing a lot of people have felt this way.

Have you ever been afraid
to meet somebody in person
for fear of what they’d think
if they ever actually met you?

Maybe it’s your appearance
Or the sound of your voice
Or some special mannerisms
That are the focus of your fear

The belief that we will not be liked
Does two things, usually:
Inspires even more doubt and fear in us, or
Turns us cruelly indifferent

If you are one of those who doubt and fear,
You may feel a desire to hide from the world
To remain anonymous, or to
Pretend you are someone other than you are

But you must be yourself

For the only love you can truly feel, or know

Is love of truly-you