Short of Breath

I always love when days get

so long and tragically dark that

we believe we can see the stars.


It's moments in life like that that we have to thank

for our growth. I find it inspiring that emptiness and fear

are brave enough to offer us a chance to question

and test our faith - I know what you're about to say

and yes, I am writing this at 2 a.m. while doing that exact

thing (questioning. Testing). But what kind of artist would I

  be if I banished my starside rants from these hallowed pages

of clarity and what would I gain from my poetic


therapy sessions if I didn't at least try to make

something more stunning than roses or moons

from my pain? So allow me, if you will, to return

to my point. Because as people - nothing more than

the atoms that form the elements of our societies,


we crave friction and contact, balance and gentleness.

We must be reminded that others out there have felt

what we are feeling when we feel it. We must know

that never in any second of time will we ever be

truly alone. I have noticed something fascinating

in the way humans manage to be stars (fueled

and passionate) and snowflakes (frigid and stoic)

all at once - without ever so much as batting an eyelash


and no matter how horrible we feel or how dark

the sky gets we will Always remain more radiant

than the sun and more complex than any universe.


And it's always thoughts like this

that get me through the days

when I forget how to breathe.