where the wild things went

your entire body shakes when you laugh

as if your sense of humour was built on a fault line

and the coast of your heart falls into the ocean of yourself

and im left looking for this atlantis

left looking for this place that exists in stories

told by old men who were there when

mathematics assured them

their willingness to believe was greater

than their determination to dismiss

im left looking for atlantis

regardless of the scientist that insists

my efforts would be better spent

unearthing clues to where the wild things went

we come from a mentality

that rarely sees the horror in symmetry

or the beauty in non conformity

we insist for us everything must be clear cut

we deposit our faith in fear

but clear our minds to the possibility

that maybe we as adults

still get scared of the dark

we're all shipwrecked on this idea that everything needs to be explained

maybe the best we can hope for

is that those we leave behind

find comfort in knowing

that we're born out of love

not out of science

that biology explains the how

but love explains the why

this is for those that scour the streets wondering where the wild things went