Enslaved (day 2828)

Moral resources grow stronger
The more thy soul does learn
Envision what this destiny
Could look like all around.

For in the skies, no longer streaking
Would be what Heavens divine,
No act of God unspoken for
That lacked full consciousness.

Upon the ground, each footstep taken
Would be of a more focused breadth,
One that swept with kindness, outward
Approaching the day with care.

Amidst the air would be pure waves,
No abstracted vibrations lost in space,
Each word so designed for to reach our neighbour
So kindly thought and presented.

Our eyes would see true meaning
So that no deceit could enter near,
No vagabond, no trickster magician
Could spread fear we didn’t know.

Yet depth amidst our pure resource
Grows weaker every day,
Though we know what kind can create
It falls away: enslaved.

Pen Blotches (day 1575)

I cannot grasp what it will mean to send you off again,
What it will mean to let you go;
Finger tips to finger tips and not looking back
And hearing the roar of big jet planes
Overcome my trembling heart
That fleeting moments have left disoriented,
Direction home now jumbled and unrecognizable
Like the clouds you’ll soon be looking down upon.
I cannot find solace in a text to voice ratio,
In a line to line heartbeat filled of stories from afar.
But I will write until my pen blotches all my
Blank pages sad, and leaves my exclamation marks
Simple puddles in a mess.
So come back soon,
Before my heart begins to beat too soft a vibration,
And my pen runs out of black.

Pen Blotches by Ned Tobin