October First

It’s Saturday and I’m asleep in my car at a Texas state park underneath the stars. This isn’t where I thought I would be as I’m approaching 25. It’s beautiful and chaotic. The Gemini twins must be guiding me. I always thought I would be a singer. Since I was two years old, this is what I thought I most become. Instead, I write about music. I write poems that only fifty people read, perhaps less. I’m gracious for these moments. Bittersweet as they may be. In my lonesomeness, I’ve found the moon to be a kind companion. I stopped trusted people. I walk so many roads alone. But I’ve seen so much beauty too. Maybe some day someone will hear my songs and find them lovely. Or perhaps one day when I’ve passed on, my swan song may be known. I hear the crickets song along the hum of the highway hideaway. I don’t know if I’m on the right road. All I know of God is the blessings of the vagrants that I feed. Other travelers like me. If I eat, then so do ye.

I find god here among the trees. Here in me. The forest outside the city streets. I’m getting a PhD in a degree that I’m afraid (sometimes) won’t help anyone but maybe me. But then again. Medicine heals people who go on to kill the earth. Humanities hurts people because they can’t heal dirt with theories. They think man is above the rest. I wonder who reads these poems. So silent is my existence. And so loud are my poems in their yearning. So loud is the earth and its violence. I think I want nothing but silence. But sound.

My body is breaking. But we’re all degrading. Our earth, be she so lovely, is falling apart. I’m lonely in her loveliness. Pictures of trees and never of me on this social medium. Unnamed I share all my thoughts with strangers. Who’ve become friends through their words. They know more of me than most know of me. The sides I’m scared to show. I’m shouting into the distance. Trying to proclaim my existence. Because if tomorrow I may go. At least somewhere, someone has my poems.

– All I know of heaven and all I know of God. Yet no one knows me. I’ve left not a single finished song.

Published by Silent Singer

The Silent Singer

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