Born on the same day,
They both look the same way.
Do you know why?
They have the same genes,
because they eat the same things.
Do you know why?
They were born in the same place,
at the same time
in the gold mine.
They were children
of the same parents,
so that is why they look the same!
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
He fell in love,
With the idea of her.
But he realized too late
that ideas aren't people
and they never do
what you expect.
People aren't things to dream about.
People are imperfect beings
And they don't fit into
Your misunderstood notions.
Foolish ideas, foolish emotions,
Now he's her fool,
Juggling his own life
For her entertainment.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
My affinity for sleeping
Is not to rest–
But rather,
To wander
Relive
Revisit
Myself; my missteps.
I seal myself away
In a timeless tomb
Where I can hope
And dance
And love
Whomever I choose.
I do not find my time wasted
When I drift away in the night
I find myself again living
In leau of reality's knock.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
Sunrise.
Sunset.
Night and day.
Birth.
Death.
Beginning and end.
Why can't you see
That the ending
Holds just as much beauty
As the opening
Of the enormous play on stage
That is life.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
My soul rests within the
tranquility of the empty valley
I nestle in a beautiful space
a carved out place,
As I lie between
two proud mountains
Open to the sky
I make a restful sigh
As I enjoy this giant
emptiness
Blustering winds pass through
as the valleys edges are
brushed by busy grasses
And tickled by the
Sweeping clouds
While many cattle graze
a silent centre has a
grateful gaze
As eons pass the empty
center sits to watch seasons
spiral past.
With her rolling mountains
and rotating valley
she see her endless time
And drinks it slowly
Like a delicious wine
How I enjoy the sweet open valley
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Which starlike sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see
All hearts your captives, yours yet free;
Be you not proud of that rich hair
Which wantons with the love-sick air;
Whenas that ruby which you wear,
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone
When all your world of beauty’s gone.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC