Pilots of souls choosing death's road
are directed by the living dead
to travel familiar darkened caverns
where stagnating reality,
against narrow empty walls.
Pilots of souls choosing life's path
are called by the wind,
to soar beyond earthly limits
where the fulfillment of dreams,
to the glory of Heaven.
The bus arrives, Metro Transit.
Elbows vie for position, advantage.
A seat I must have,
For the Halifax voyage.
Some are uneasy as they push towards the door.
Shouldn't men give way first?
But the weather's too cold.
Each man for himself! there's little room for more.
Some don't mind,
A place by the pole.
Being forced rearward and rearward,
with each step through the door.
A chatter is heard, between friends, above roar.
"If that were me, I'd tell him where to go..."
A headphone overflowing, tiny sounds of rock and roll.
And the traffic as always is slow.
A ding, a squeal, a hiss of the door.
Musical chairs, a scramble.
Bus lurches forward, footing unsure.
Forty minutes before seats become ample.
Potential for conversation is high,
Most people hide behind silent masks.
A chance for developing friendship is nigh,
But sharing is not offered and nobody asks.
Faces stare blankly,
At windows and books,
Guarded by aloofness and looks.
But as soon as each one,
Reaches their own world, their own stop,
They flee from their prison,
With a run and a hop.
Driven by a voice buried in the mystery of my soul.
I am compelled to reach and touch broken lives.
Like a song bursting from my breast
I want to say "I love you!"
I want to shout to the world "If only if it would love, there would be hope".
If I could release my intentions, I would give everything to those in need.
I want to draw close to the unlovely,
to believe in everyone,
to listen and hear heart's longings
and to fulfill them.
I want to give hope by deed or spoken word.
The life within me says to give it all for that is the substance of joy.
Is love strongest when it is poured rather than left to steep?
What is the cost to truly live and truly love?
I must pay all, but can I?
What are the consequences of such madness in a world like this?
Instead, I survive sensibly.
I behave reasonably and realistically.
I am too rational for such sacrifice.
Fear restrains me.
Selfishness binds me.
Twisted conformity artificially molds me and I allow it.
However living without this madness is horror and living with it is pain.
I am torn between dying to myself so that I might truly live
or focusing on myself so the true joy will die.
This is the madness love calls me to.
The pulse of life
propels us forward
through maze and twisted bend.
Attuned to strife
planned collaborations horrid
The heart unable to mend.
Disabled by fear and fright.
Grasping for answers.
When a calm moment does send.
That ray of light,
Illumination and failure thwarted.
Strength to the end.
The power lies in our dearest delight.
The true heart
that carries us homeward.