Pinpricks

Every little pinprick in the fabric of the sky,

Each distant star sewn into the veil of night,

Portraying how beautiful it can be to dream,

Yet how impossible dreams are to grasp.

 

Still, we gaze into those ink-black skies,

Awestruck by the majesty of the universe,

Small; almost insignificant by comparison,

Yet we weigh our tiny, whimsical dreams against the stars.

 

-Like we were miniature gods,

That we could command this night,

To fulfil our deepest wishes,

Simply by turning our eyes to the heavens and praying.

 

Praying,

For what we believe, we deserve,

Greedy enough to believe,

That the night owes us our day.

Grace in Surrender

I lost my naivety,

Learned what it meant to fall,

From the dizzy heights of innocence,

To no longer be blind.

 

Too wise before my time,

I lost my sense of danger,

As I tied myself to the railway line.

 

The oncoming train,

The reality I never anticipated,

Slammed on its brakes to spare me knowing,

What it would be like not to feel,

My heartbeat but-

 

For the rest of my days,

I had wasted my prettiest years,

On tears, born out of wanderlust.

 

I had wasted my breath,

Whispering into the night,

Lost in fantasy world,

With no hope of mending,

Such fractured dreams and-

 

I’m a burnt-out shell of a former grace,

With the truth etched on my face,

I’m a disgrace, but isn’t everyone,

I know.

 

Now I’m scared of everything,

And I think too much, too often,

As do you and so does everyone,

I know.

 

Maybe there’s grace in surrender,

Grace in hindsight,

Grace in surrender to next time around,

Grace in surrender to being still after all,

Grace in surrender to the fall.