I went for a walk today,
And when I went to rest against a tree,
I heard the wind breathe
And I heard myself breathe
And I knew that we were one

The beauty of nature is bittersweet
not because it may not last,
no,
Nature will endure.

It is bittersweet because we know
that while nature will endure
the same will not apply
to you and me

i saw your old converse sneakers-
laces mismatched-
dangling from the hightop stool.
you smiled at me from across the road.
i came in just to say
i love you too

It seems all great poems are about love.
For me, that's not the case.
It seems, as I read, we revolve around love,
Around this passion, fury, lifelong ache.

It seems that everyone knows what love is,
If they don't, they know what love should be.
It seems everyone desires to experience love,
They think that love will set them free.

That's not the case for me.

These words of longing, of beauty and desire,
Words that paint stars onto the sky,
Are words I cherish, admire and adore,
But not ones I try to exemplify.

I have never been in love.
Maybe one day, I will be.
Maybe one day, I will understand those words.
Perhaps, one day, I will read them and agree.

Today, I'll just try to be me.

Dear Blank,
I left your name blank because I don't know who you are,
or where you are.
Are you near, or are you far?

Dear Blank,
Sometimes I wonder if I truly need you,
Or if I'm better off on my own.
But I am scared: will you lift me up or hold me down?

Dear Blank,
Will I ever find you? Are you really there?
Or are you just a memory, and idea, a question--
A question, with no answer, or confession.

Dear Blank,
If I search, will I find you?
I would call out for you, but I don't know your name,
And all I see surrounding me is more of the same.

Dear Blank,*
Are you really there?

Dear Mariah,

Who are you? I don't know.
All I know are your words.

Your words with out capitals,
because they don't need to be constrained my things like grammar,
rules.

Your words without rhymes,
because they pain a picture on their own, just letters,
emotions.

Your words are just letters,
but together they are something more, something incredible-
consciousness.

Your words are something unique, something never before seen,
Your words are hope,
Pain,
Confusion,
Wonder.

Dear Mariah,
Treasure your words.

I wonder if,
We could have grown up together,
our laughter in the playground, our chatter in the halls.
But instead, you moved away.

I wonder if now,
if you had stayed,
where would we be?
Even then, would I know your name?

The best dreams take us to the most far away places,
where the ocean swells, or the desert winds howl,
the sun gleams across the rippling oasis,
or the air thrums with the hoot of an owl.
The best dreams take us to the most far away places.

We search, in circles, for the place in our dreams,
the place where we dance on the stars--
And we search until we scream,
Ending up in small town bars,
Because we can't find the far away place in our dreams.

No place of golden clouds and glory,
Of distant shores, and ringing songs,
No place of an endless happy story,
Where all of us belongs.
There is no place of or dreams--

But here.
We are not in that distant land,
We are hear, on this Earth, with all of the fear,
And we must learn to smile, and stretch out our hand,
Until our dreams stop searching for that far away land.

We must make our own far away land.