21 Grams



Lately I've been thinking about my own

mortality and just how fragile life can be.

They claim that at the time of death,

when your soul leaves your body,

you lose twenty-one grams of weight.

If we're counting, that's eight pennies

Or fifteen paper clips if you will.

That's nineteen jelly beans.

Better yet, one hundred raindrops

on a chilly autumn morning.

It troubles me to think that everything that

makes us unique carries so little weight.

It seems so insignificant.

When I die, I want the sun to supernova

and the earth to spin off its axis.

I want the oceans to be at rest

so the tide never comes back in.

When I leave this earth, I want people

to wonder how they could ever

go on in my absence.

Twenty-one grams isn't enough.

My soul feels so much heavier than that.

The Free Spirit

As she danced,

the whole world danced with her,

swirling around in step

with every movement she made,

with every flit of her hair,

every stolen glance.

She danced to remember,

she danced to forget.

She danced so she would live again,

so she could believe again.

She danced because she had to,

it was in her and if she didn't

it would come bursting out of her

like an atom bomb,

her own personal Hiroshima.

As I watched, I was surprised, aroused,

confounded, captivated...

For with each movement of her body

and twirl of her hair

she was born anew.

The Pretender

Oh great pretender,

you have everyone fooled.

Everyone that is, but me.

I see through your facade.

You can't blend in

no matter how hard you try.

You put on your hat

or that uniform,

and you may wear them for a while

but none of them fit,

none of them feel like you.

Oh great pretender,

how foolish you are

to think that I don't know your secret.

Longing to be where you belong,

what a tragic waste of potential

that lays at your feet.

Oh great pretender,

you must take heed

post haste

don't waste another day

knowing

knowing

knowing

that the biggest catastrophe

in your life was the day you

decided to settle for second best

at best, giving up on blazing your

own path, creating your own truth,

resigning yourself to hem the inseam

of another man's vision.