Cast the dice

Tell me all about
Your carefully laid-out plans
And all your contingencies,
Your armies of lists
And swarms of possibilities.
I promise I’ll listen,
But don’t demand I don’t laugh
When Heaven itself chuckles –
There’s no amount of preparation
That can turn the tide of fate.
I’m not saying don’t think ahead
And charge into life like a fool –
Your fire may keep you warm
But it won’t protect
Your bare, shivering skin
From thorns and cuts and bruises.
There’s a difference, though,
Between being aware of dangers
And making up some of your own.
Look before you leap,
But not to the bottom of the sea
Just take a deep breath
And trust yourself to deal.
You can’t survive a war if
Your overthinking kills your spirit
Long before the battlefield.
So cast the dice already
And let it be.

Objective Count

You hold ends and beginnings
In the depths of your eyes,
A confusion of joy and sorrow
Driven by madness maybe,
Because I feel like I’m drunk
Whenever I hold your gaze.
You set me adrift, and half the time
I’m not sure if you’re
The best or the worst thing
That could have happened to me.
I just wish I could make a count
Of how many ends
To how many beginnings
And have an objective measure
To set my subjective giddiness against,
But it’s a complicated math
That can’t decide between
Adding and multiplying,
Addition and substraction,
A zero, a one and a multitude.
You started with an end.
And that’s a bad sign, isn’t it?
Because your presence slowly
Disolved my whole life before you.
But I’m not sure if that’s only an end.
The end itself had a beginning
And that beginning was, in fact,
That you made me realize
There are other things out there
And that I might deserve them.
But then, I perhaps only tried to go
For the one possible (or impossible) thing
That had your unreadable eyes,
And your quick, delicious smile –
I have no idea how my new life
Began rearranging itself in this
Beautiful shape that
Sharpens all my corners
And hugs all my curves
Like it was custom-made for me.
Does it matter that I only ever
Held your eyes and followed you
Like you were the Pied Piper
And I was starving for your song?
Does it matter that I stumbled
Upon the right path by mistake?
Is intention relevant to mathematics?
Do two small slices of something
Hold the same equality to a bigger one
When they were intentionally cut
And when they crumbled away?
I can’t even really disregard all this
And look towards the future.
It would be romantic, wouldn’t it,
To say I only need the very last thing
To not be an end, to not be our end.
But how foolish would that be?
Because, yes, you’re powerful enough
To leave me splintered and bleeding
Not from my heart, but my soul
When you’re finally done with me.
But something tells me that
You’re also incredible enough
That when I crawl my way up
And bind my wounds and cracks –
Because I always do at some point –
I’ll find that the pieces you left behind
Make up far more of me than I was
Before I ever met you.
And maybe, just maybe,
Some of those parts would
Never have happened
If it wasn’t for you.
So maybe I’m trying to count
Apples together with pears
So that it might tell me
How many plums I’m missing.
Maybe no count is possible of life.
But I’m scared to be left without
Any objective measure at all,
Because everything in my eyes
Is distorted, painted rose and gold.
I am drunk and high on you,
And it’s getting harder to remember
That I want to be objective.

The List

I’ve heard so many claim my soul is so shallow:
That I am but a shell to ring of hollow.
Those saying this I bid to try and peel
Away each set of lie to free the real.
So now I quit my sharp and dear pencil,
Shove away talent, let’s look at what’s essential.
Please, peel away the image of my looks,
Who cares of a body? I’ve got much better books.
Feel free to take away the vastness of my friends,
As none can think of friendship it starts and never ends.
Did my sharp eyes and concentrated being,
Strike you like something you’ve never been so seeing?
But please proceed and take it all away
For what counts knowledge when life would turn its way?
Might I have startled people with my sudden laugh?
Sometimes my twisty jokes could turn into a gaffe.
So cross away yet further my sharp and witty humour,
It’s anyway at taste of many a consumer.
I’m sure you will protest also at my assurance.
I will let go. Who knows of its recurrence.
And from now further I just might do well
In telling between truth and what men tell.
I’m left with just the love, and ever-lasting goodness.
But I could never stand to see your bitterness,
So I won’t breathe a word. Keep going, my sweet dolly.
And modesty? But please. I’m sure you think it’s folly.
And now comes the nice question: what is left?
Yes, some of you ignore those all, ignore their theft,
And claim I have an answer just to prove them wrong.
I’m asking you, is all this fair, cutting miles long
Of character they couldn’t fill with their little lives.
But I won’t lower to judge them; for just the high survives.
And, yes. Oh, how I love the shock. Yes, I do have the answer.
Stripped of whole me, like I’ve been sick of cancer,
There is still me: still starry eyes and love,
My inner child, that you couldn’t shove.
I’ve seen around how you lose him, his pretty smile
In your rush for power and strong wit and style.
I don’t let go. And if by list I don’t prove better,
This no one can surpass, even by just a letter.
I beg your pardon. You were asking? Who I am? How dare I?
But you? You beast. You selfish traitor. You just try,
For I can handle. But I warn, I’ll turn the question
And let’s see how your list looks at the great confession.
You tremble? My dear, I haven’t yet got started.
So better smile, nod, and it’s time we parted.