Conor Matthews

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

It’ll be gone soon,
That’s no excuse for now.
Just because it ends,
Is no reason to rush.

You can’t live your life,
Years spent wondering how,
You’ll go like fallen leaves,
Vanishing in the brush.

The worst you can do,
Is go before it’s right.
You’ll never know for sure,
How it all ends.

It may seem easier,
Than to stay and fight.
But it’s worth it,
To family and friends.

Do not linger long,
On what has yet to come.
Nor on the past,
And words left unsaid.

Instead take pride,
Where you’ve been and from.
You are for the living,
Doubts are for the dead.

Infinity lies ahead,
Whatever way you look.
So if you must remember,
Let it be to breathe.

For if ages are chapters,
Your life is a book;
Just because it’ll end,
Isn’t reason not to read.



Photo by Jason Murphy on Unsplash

The burning ships behind you,
Ruffle and rubble like thunder,
Fortelling fortune or fatigue,
Promising plunder or blunder.

The shore you cross,
Still blistering at night,
Were looming cliffs defeated,
By the crashing waves’ might.

The only witness to your arrival,
Is the grass upon the dune,
Always under your feet,
Or above your grave soon.

Your steps are wiped away,
By sea and by air,
Wins and losses don’t matter,
As though you were not there.

But you must take each step,
From the smouldering ash,
For you are from the sea,
Into cliffs you were made to crash.



Photo by Christian Holzinger on Unsplash

Do you have company,
Or did they invite themselves in?

Because I’ve met our friends,
And when they play you’ll never win.

Rarely are they angry,
But they still can be.

They love hiding in the dark,
Before running up behind me.

I’m worried how you all met,
I thought we were exclusive.

But they’re hardly loyal and intimate,
Though they are intrusive.

I think you should leave,
You wouldn’t want to be here.

If they want you as a friend,
You’ll never be without fear.

They were my friends first,
And I’m not one to share.

I want you to be lonely,
Because I, unlike them, care.



Photo by Clay LeConey on Unsplash

A woman went into the woods,
Though born in a city,
Raised in a home,
She can be found,
Only where she found herself.

Few go in with her,
Fewer after her,
Thinking she’s among bricks,
Hoping she’s in bed,
Longing for promises.

For her it is the woods,
For one it is the beach,
For another a mountain,
But never for all,
Few leave at all.

If you follow her steps,
You will lose the tracks,
As you will with any,
But make your own,
And you’ll cross paths.

Find sand in forests,
Leaves by the shore,
Valleys atop mountains,
Wherever is quiet,
You’ll meet your tribe.

She is not found,
But rather met,
By those searching,
Not for her,
But what they have.

Leave cities, homes, bricks,
For where you are,
Where you’re meant for,
Leave where you’re lost,
For where you’re found.