I know I’m a tree
When the breeze hits me,
I too feel like swaying
With it, there’s a certain
Joy that makes me want
To close my eyes,
Hold myself and sway.

Though I’m rootless,
And delusional to think
I’m not as alone as
I know that to really
Be together with you,
I have to stand
And sway with you.

When feverish as a child, I
Saw a box. Bigger than any box
I can imagine now, feverish or not.
It was simple yet crushing
A box – its size didn’t stop
Growing. It would grow and
Grow until my head couldn’t
Comprehend it anymore. And so I would
Open my eyes. And it would start
Again as soon as my eyelids

I don’t see it anymore but there’s
Nothing else I want to see more.
It was my imagination. There were
No restrictions or limits to my
Imagination. The years have added on
Baggage. There are now father figures
Demanding things from me, as
Opposed to being fatherless and
Only being fed with dreams and
Grand ideas by my mother.
Responsibilities are the murderers
Of creativity for young men, but
A much needed push for the older
Creative folks.