I've always been a no name, quiet and sitting in the back of the class.

I've always been a no name, just trying to go through the halls without getting knocked over.

I've always been a no name, with no one to help me carry my burdens.

I've always been a no name, an outcast, a '******'.

I've always been a no name, painfully average, painfully plain.

I've always been a no name, with even the the teachers forgetting my name.

I've always been a no name, barely any talent, barely anything special.

But I refuse to be a no name,

I refuse to sit quietly,

I run through the halls skipping,

if I have to I will carry my burdens myself,

I may be an outcast, but that's okay,

I refuse to be average,

I refuse to be plain,

I refuse to let people forget my name,

I refuse to tell myself I'm untalented, or special.

I refuse to be a no name.

Every second right now the next second, the second after that is fleetingly the future, present, then the past.

They all come and go so fast, the future is second from the past and even closer with the present.

In the space of 3 seconds you have all three and don’t even know that they’re there and gone.

And now at this moment in time is the youngest you will ever be again, then that is in the past.

Every second of the present is fleeting into the past as fast ad you can blink your eyes.

Here and gone and here and gone. Gone forever only looking forward to the future that will be here in a second.

Marble skies roll over golden fields,
in the silent winds, whispers travel to the ears.
Their faces are free, painted with joy,
under the setting sun.

Born on rocks and forged with hate,
their worlds collide and separate,
and now they find themselves sown together,
under the setting sun.

Warm air swirls and curls and flows,
down from the sky, and through their bones,
waiting for an event horizon,
they feel the setting sun.

Gods are known to tear apart,
the sacred chains that bind two hearts,
but nothing can stop their everlasting love,
under the setting sun.

The sunset glistens through the trees,
The forest floor is covered with pine needles and leaves,
The trees in the breezes creak and moan;
I love coming here alone.

Everlasting ferns at my feet,
A pile of rocky boulders make a beautiful seat,
When I come here I think of days of long ago;
And about creeks that bubble and flow.

*~Marian~

Maybe when the crows start flying.
Maybe when the ravens start gliding.
Maybe when the squirrels start crawling,
And the wolves start burrowing,
And the bears start hibernating,
And the mosquitoes start disappearing.

Maybe I'll go into that forest, so enchanting, so mysterious.
So white, so bare.
Yet the most beautiful I've ever seen.
The ground is snow, the sky is night, peppered with the souls of the universe. The day is dark, the air is cold, now it's time to do my part.

My eternal promise, now too aged to be left undone.
I've made my speeches, and I've said my goodbyes.
Into the Dead Forest I go.
Into the white bulls-eye, where my deed must be done.
I now give myself to the elements.
I let their power break me down, crush my shield.
I let them take my soul, and let my spirit rise.
A ritual, a ceremony.
I have the power to bring life, and to bring death.
And I have the power to decide.
And so I have decided I would give up my power, my life, my heart, And all for the sake,
Of those I love.

It's the first day of spring
but little it matters to my heart
where it is always winter.

It's the first day of the spring
And it has tore me apart again
Like an autumn wind.

It is the first day of the spring
But our eyes are still raining
For the memories of summer gone.