Epitome of Loyalty - TJ

It is not for me to judge I know
But this is out of love

A tree a hundred years old
And it still grows
So why should we stop
From reaching heavenward?

Please now listen
Keep breathing
Don’t look down


In this ecosystem we both have to give
We’re told and know it’s in order to live
So if I see you dying
Don’t deny me
I can be diplomatic
Only for the time being

Have you ever tried reading
A little deeper?
Take in into your heart
But not to heart
Don’t make excuses
Death won’t be excused!
Know the power your mirror exudes
Use it
Your weapon and protection
Take the leaves
Never leave
Commit to your memory
This is from someone higher than me

I won’t offend
I won’t defend
I won’t give in giving in
What we need to become deeply rooted
Holding onto what will hold us,
Soaking in glorious sun
The energy to filter the water from above,
Within this mire in which we stand

Reach for the hand…

It is not for me to judge I know
But this is out of love
A tree a hundred years old
And it still grows
So why should you
(Oh ever able person)
Slow?

Human-Gio

I’m at war. In the heat of battle and the enemy is so close at hand.
So close that I can feel his breath, hear his movements, and behold his shadow.
So close my heart can race uncontrollably and palpitations can flow like a torrent river.
What am I more afraid of?
The cause of my anxiety, my automatic response to it or the in explicable fact that I don’t understand why I am afraid?
You see the strange thing is that I know my foe and he knows me well.
Yet familiarity doesn’t earn the luxury of compassion in any way, shape or form. No punches are pulled and the viciousness only seems to escalate.
I am not referring to weapons of a tangible kind but I have become accustomed to the penetrating feel of cold steel in my heart.
I am not the victim of a fatality but the beneficiary of unintentional conditioning.
However I suppose you can say the trainer and trainee is one and the same person, since the enemy can sometimes be closer than you may think.
It’s curious how emotions can sometimes take control of an individual.
What causes phenomenon like knots in the stomach, butterflies, anxiety, heartache, tears of joy, tears of pain and pride?
Are my emotions my enemies or my friends? A hindrance or a benefit? Strength or weaknesses? One thing that is irrefutable, assured and confirmed is that I am undeniably… human.

Not Quite Flying Yet - TJ

Sometimes I feel like he;
(Even though I know it's not real)
"Maybe I'm talking to a tree"

You're more real than that

I want to make and create
But I ache
So bad, to think
Of you, me and everything
If it's all you it must be all me
Sensitive: bring me back to my senses
Permission to dissect received?

Thank you for the promise
(Though not quite fulfilled)
"Remember, this is not just a wish"

You're as real as that

And I still feel I need you
Here
No fast fix
That would be selfish
Thankful for my digits
Reminders and presents of your presence;
My wings

Revealing Reflection - Gio

Eyes of saphire or oppaline?
Piercing and dark or soft and serene?
Rows of tight braids in perfect symmetry,
Or hair that paints a perfect picture of a raging silk sea?
A soft inviting appearance which appeals to the heart,
A confident self assured demeanour that betrays ableness.
Differences as contrasting as the seering and the cool,
Yet in all respects both are still beautiful.

You see they say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Does that then dictate that self worth is determined by another's opinion?
That unless someone believes so your beauty is proportionate to another's thoughts?
I feel contrary to the popular belief on the basis of reason.
Your beauty should be constant, decided by you not by fashionable thoughts that fluctuate like seasons.

By aid of reflection your eyes can behold yourself so thus you can have control.

Uncertainties can be dissolved without the need to become vain.
But at what point will vain take over from inspiring as you glance at this darkened pane.
Ironic!
That such a pane can remove such as itself from within the heart.
That such a pane has power to overcome feelings if things reflect in warmer ways than summer days.
Summer days and cheerful ways,
Though they need be restriced to occassions and held at bay.

You can manufacture your own happiness without the input of another.
They can add to your joy,
But their perspective becomes irrelevant if the words turn malicious or coy.

At what point does the ugly duckling become beautiful in countenance?
When its physical appearance changes or upon the moment it decides it is so?
I prefer to entertain the case to be the latter,
Not just for show but for reasons that matter.
That belief from inside is the force that can cause transformation.
An unexplainable force that would inspire determination.

So finally i ask you what is beautiful?
A status, a description, a feeling inside?
Perhaps it just all boils down to one's state of mind.