Like Meadowlarks upon the wheat
Who's songs speak of truth
I lay upon the field of gold
I lay there as if mute
Their songs can be heard from miles around
A sweet song they sing
For the memories of lovers lost
Is a...all to familiar sting
I reach out to grab the sun which leaves me in despair
The memories of what has gone is to much for one to bear
The breeze bring a simple touch...a kiss upon my face
But quickly does it remind me of this vast empty space
I lay here upon this field...that dirties my clean shirt
The stains of which I've earned... remind me of the hurt
Dear sweet meadowlarks sing me your songs of joy
For all that's left of me... is a lost little boy

I find myself upon hallowed ground...
Amonst a courtyard of marbled stone
Whos touch is as cold as the winter night
Whos names are as blurred as the morning fog
That blankets the truth from unfamiliar eyes...
The leaves blow around me in a dance as if rehearsed
I find myself lost amongst this peace...
Never welcomed...never forgotten...
For what lays here is but a memory and a promise...
A promise that I shall return...and never leave...
Will that day be as cold as today?
As empty as the freshly dug graves?
Who will fill them?

You make me feel as small as a single grain of sand... that falls in an hourglass as dark as the corners of a unlit room and lost forever like the secrets of children unborn to mothers buried from a short-lived life unloved and forgotten.

“Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary? Where is the foundling’s father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.”

― Herman Melville, Moby ****


One of the most raw and emotional things i have ever read and or heard be read.

I love Herman Melville may his words forever be available for future readers and writers alike.

Where does the sunset go?
With orange fire to lead its way
And I a bird upon a tree
To gaze upon the sky so free
Where do the stars begin?
On horizons deep and true
And what reflections do we see upon the morning dew
What truth is spoken upon our wake
What lies are worth a word
A box hidden that holds the ground
For where my love is found
My love for you is surpassed by none
For its true, pure, and free
For whistles from kettles sound upon a cup of tea

In measurement of time man is a grain of sand in an hourglass as vast as the universe itself. Every moment captured in memory makes that hourglass fill...Every failure...every triumph is another grain that falls....in time it will be covered by others...in time we shall all be forgotten....Can you tell me what moment in time did the first grain fall? What moment will be the last? Who will tilt the glass in the end?

Looking into your eyes
I see what the blind see
Hearing your voice
I hear what the deaf hear
For my heart speaks truth that only the mute repeat
Your beauty is that of flowers bloom
That hold in it the innocence of life
So fragile that a passing wind makes it kneel
So powerful that the fragrance forever is remembered
You are that of Cherry Blossoms
Who's beauty comes and goes with the seasons
Who's beauty is as if painted on a canvas to live for eternity.