Do you know

what it's like to have your world turned upside down?
to find yourself shooting through the sky in a blaze of crazy colours
like a rocketship with no place to go
a man with no place to be?
Do you know what it's like to fall in love with a person you can't have
and then find out that they'd fallen in love with you at some other time
and some other place
life can be cruel
but it's beautiful
is it worth it?
I don't know
Do you know what it's like to fall down hard and fast and far?
I do.
It hurts
both metaphorically and physically.
Life is full of glorious highs and painful lows
The trick: learning to take it all in stride
the good and the bad
but never the ugly
because accepting that something is ugly
is like giving up on it- saying that something is ugly
is actually saying that you are too lazy or weak to see something beautiful
life, in all of  its goodness
and in spite of its badness
is beautiful.
Life is beautiful.

You ask me why I'm smiling

I stare, open-mouthed.
But you've lived such a hard life,
I say.
why are you smiling?
And she looked at me with a smile on her face.
You ask me why I am smiling
I am smiling because I am happy.
I stare.
You ask me why I am smiling,
she says.
but you want to know why I am happy.
I am happy because I woke up today
and there were no bombs to be afraid of,
no brothers to pray for as they fight in the war,
no food to work for- it's already in the fridge.
But really I am happy because even though I've endured hardship
I know that the only duty I have is to myself.
To my happiness
and to myself.
I do not need to worry about my food
or my health
the only thing I ever need to do in life is be happy.
You ask me why I am happy
but happy is not something you are.
Happy is something you make.

I went to sleep that night with a different view of the world.

She stares at me and asks
Why are you smiling?
I smile.
You ask me why I am smiling
but you want to know why I am happy.
I met a woman once who told me that she was happy
because the only duty she had was to herself,
to her happiness.
She did not need to worry about her food
or her health
the only thing she ever needed to do in life was be happy.
She was very wise
You ask me why I am happy
but happy is not something you are.
Happy is something you make.

Contemplation

looking up at the sky as the raindrops fall
staring out the window aiming to stand tall
Who are you when no one's watching
who are you when you are free?
And does it matter to anyone who you are

Where do we go when we close our eyes?
Do we wander forever, visiting far off lands?
is there a place in the world where all forgotten things reside?
And if I find it can I bring them home again?

Do we live in our bodies, or do we live in our minds
is there a person wearing my clothes that isn't me?
Can we change to be not us and leave the real us behind
Or is the person we become the person we're meant to be?

Can there be truth in lies and colour in sounds?
How do we know if up is up and down is down?
And if I cry at night, does someone hear me when I pray?
When I'm down and lonely is someone with me through the day?

Is this real? Or is life just a mirage on water?
If I put my hand to it will it stay to feel my touch
Or will it run away from me like a tumbleweed on sand?
And if we'd pause for just a moment, maybe we could live forever
Eternal youth, that's something, wouldn't that be grand?

At the end of the day what is everything about?
Is it love, or knowledge, a hand to hold, a fist of cash?
Are there stars in the sky or is reality illusion?
And if I told you that I loved you would you run and not look back?

I can ask questions forever, but I can't expect an answer
because science is a lie and there's no fact to be found
truth is a crude concept, not one that holds any water
and you can laugh at cynicism all you like
but I don't.
because the cynics have it right.

Morning

He stares at her hair on the pillow.
At her eyelashes resting on her cheeks.
The gray sunlight kissing her short nose.
He eases himself from the bed.
Walks to the door.
And into the kitchen.
He turns on the radio on the kitchen counter.
Dancing to the music while he cooks.
He flips the eggs.
He's smiling.
He remembers the night before,
Her smile.
His hands on her waist.
'I'll make you dinner if you'll make me breakfast.'
He remembers his nod.
And he smiles.
Turns off the oven
And walks back to the bedroom.
He holds a tray:
Scrambled eggs.
Waffles and sausages.
Two mugs of Irish Breakfast.
He sets it all down on the desk and he sits on the bed.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
He kisses her nose.
And then her rosy cheeks.
He kisses her eyelids and buries his nose in her hair.
She opens her eyes and flashes a smile.
Lazy, almost feline she stretches.
Sits up in bed.
Yawns.
'Morning.'
He could wake up to this every day.
He hands her a mug of tea
And she smiles again.
' 'Morning.'