Christopher Soto

Like a shining star, we sat in the sky,
and shined on the world below.
Our burning fire and strong desire,
held us suspended on the black blanket night.
...

You're one in 7 billion struggling to survive,
with just a handful out of the trillions of problems
in which to conquer we all strive.
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I feel I've awoken from a vivid dream,
met people and been to places that only I have seen.
The idea that I lived in such a beauty of a place,
feels like madness full of sadness which will take months to shake away.
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Every look into the window of the past,
creates a ripple in the pool of emotions like a stone being cast.
Menacing ghosts like fumes arising from fire
seeping endlessly into present mind and play.
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Gentle flowing peace in mind
no troubles here or there.
Voices calling, no ones home
eyelids heavy, falling, closed.
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Tick, the balance taps the pallet
Tock, the balance re-taps the pallet
Tick, The pallet unlocks the escape
Tock, the pallet re-locks the escape
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A fragment of the mind put forth into realities realm.
Giving birth to an idea once impossibly regarded
by all reason which inside me dwells.
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I lie whilst lying.
I've given up on denying.
Resurfaced thoughts afloat.
I'm in a park…
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As pages turn on the gregorian chart,
twelve stages pass us by.

Four smaller construct each of these 12,
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Sometimes I wish I could retreat into the dark corners of my mind
Where distant memories seem to live on forever.
There I could interact with the past as if it were now,
the the now as if it were the future and the future as if it were never.
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Will I ever be happy?
I want, I wish, I should, I could.
Was I ever happy?
I wanted, I wished, I should’ve, I could’ve.
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Sometimes I feel it’s best to hide away;
in shadow take cover.
Overly occupied with the idea that my presence is one which is most undesired,
I take this thought to justify my occlusion.
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I can count the happiest moments in my life without much trouble;
It’s not that I’m good with numbers, there just aren’t that many.

Some stand out more than others, they’re vivid with colours;
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Into a trap I may walk once,
but twice is more than foolish.
Yet here I am all stuck again,
attempting to undo this.
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I see in you a frighteningly familiar persona,
one which is at the same time of comfort.
It is not on a daily basis that such views match,
in fact it is possibly the only time that similarity has been so high.
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When we die, we die
and that makes us lucky.
For at least we've been favoured with this chance.
The odds of our existence are so immensely vast,
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The composers write, a chance of life begins to grow.
A beautiful exposition inside a human womb,
sets the lovely motif that for years will carry on.
Form and harmonic structure are presented and slowly expand.
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Perfectly imperfect...
Judgemental... But beauty's deep...
Imperfect perfection...
Liar... A lie that saved...
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Candle light burning bright,
tall and proud, eyes of fire...
Passion burning through the core,
the wick is charred with time.
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What can one do when trapped in a glass cage? Observe the outside world, but remain silent as shards of glass fall with speech.

Reach out you must not, as the edges pierce the skin, and injure your soft hand which wanted nothing but warmth!
Standing for hours, days, weeks... On your feet, and ready to make a break for it. You wait patiently for the right moment, but no chance presents.
...