Sometimes I wish to be the rain.
To be careless and free, and feel no pain.
To guide someone, and be their inspiration.
To bring two souls, hugged, under one umbrella,
To have them be filled with a much loving sensation,
And have their hearts sing a long-lasting a capella.

You made me feel something,
For the first time in years,
Separated me from the void,
With words of kindness and love,

But that love was full of empty promises,
And now my hearts in two,
Its okay that your fine,
But for me its like I'm being cheated on take two.

they told him nothing lasts forever
so nothing's what he left to find
he filled his heart with quiet cobwebs
and pushed the thoughts out from his mind
dropped all the things that ever hurt him
then dropped the things he cared for too
for they say nothing's worth the pain
and pain was all he ever knew
he picked bouquets of silence
wore the shadows as a coat
then used their inky darkness
and he wrote on the empty air
"my whole life I've chased nothing.
for it I have nothing to show
I've got nothing in my heart
and there is nothing that I know
but I'd give everything for something
that could erase what I'd been told
for emptiness is the heaviest thing
I've ever had to hold"

so much time is spent
and so much less is meant
within hollowed walls
and endless mirrored halls.
none can articulate
what they feel to be their fate
seeing as their time
will be cut before they can find the right rhyme.

those new prestigious prodigies
will only be accepted with the right commodities.

only those with an endless present
can give the idea to reinvent
a past that cannot possibly give
a future that everyone can forgive

we may have finally left the gods behind
but left the people in the back of our collective mind.

there is not way the earth can win
when hidden by a prodigy's leering grin;
we must force a victory from the sea
before we can truly be carefree.

for now, i will place a vow
and seize the day to repay
my world with time i have taken
to help it reawaken.

(First and Last lines taken from Paradise Lost).*

Through Eden took their solitary way,
the contemporary mind, page by page,
sitting idly on his soft bed and modern age,
witnessed the injustice, far away.

“Not today’s fault,” cries the observer.
“It is for the first man to pay.”
There is no reason a mind so clever,
could muster in its wavering faith.

What fault was his in such arrange?
Was he to pay for something so estranged?
Was it his own pain to ache?
Was it not years, years too late?

But away from his leathered book,
off to the pristine white of a winter’s day,
his eyes wander, and cry his inner grey.

His hand would abate this fray.
For if love can cast out hate,
In love, His grace will satiate.

What could he understand?
Isn’t feeling all he knows?
It is in the tears, the gentle hands–
In grace, His love will flow.

For if the stars are in our veins,
and hidden lives in a single verse,
if there are wonders in the mundane,
and even more in the lofty universe,

How could one aspire,–
How could someone underestimate–
to audaciously take life’s fires,
and in his mind, encapsulate?

So the man decides for sweet abandon.
And finds that in his soul it would suit,
to trust someone with infinite compassion,
as he read the story of the devil’s loot,
*of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit.