The Fine Thread of Life: a set of poems


No Regards.Those are not fireworks. Parallel run dark and light. Two men dead on the street.


Life can seem so concrete at times. Wake, work, eat, sleep. The frivolous drama absorbs many. It easily entices you into a dark enveloping cave it calls “life.” Close reminders are what brings us back to the tight rope walk of reality. Our lives are so fragile. Death makes a regretful grateful. The search for meaning was only an avoidance tactic. Why is it so hard to accept contentment. Why do we fight ourselves each day against the truth. Sigh. It’s tiring holding this mask all day. What is it all for?




The smallest creation. How vulnerable, open, warm. How guarded, closed, cold. Simultaneously. Riding through and through. Tugging back and forth till balanced. Here I am, but here I am not, but “I” do not exist. Through and through. Pulling and pushing. A love that grew.









Visuals are hard to see. Words are hard to hear. Feel the truth through humility to simply and honestly stop the fear.

This is all a game you play with yourself, I’m told. There’s nothing to it really. Stop enjoying the blind man’s search to unlock your hidden treasure.




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