Books permit travel to other lands,
Some that actually exist,
Some that are fictional,
Adventures of delightful bliss.

Music allows a person to sink
Into emotion in a way
Much more accurate than
What they can say.

Writing is an escape that grants
Complete control to a person;
The plot is under their control,
To better or to worsen.

These are some of the things
That keep me living day by day;
These things allow my
Heart to go and play.

Sure the fatigue would come...
Infiltrating the sanctity of our skin,
gripping our muscles
and chafes us within.
Right down to the bone.

No doubt the fear of future days
would eat at us raw.
It would gnaw at our minds...
Debilitating thoughts that would *******
no one else but our own.

Of course the seeds we've planted,
mightn't see past the layer of soil
in which they're embedded.
Seeds hidden in the ground for future reaping...
They mightn't flourish to meet the harvest
and greet the hand which would
welcome them full grown.

Most likely the days before us
only show of dark clouds...
That constantly scare us.

But today...
Has time and space for us to exist.
Today has a crisp sweetness wafting through the air.
Firm, unwavering ground beneath our feet.
So let's claim today because today is ours to keep.

Today we share the returns...
Of the sweat and the tears that in the past
we've sown.

Stars and calendars
Just whispered
That the last time
You and me met
Was exactly
6,000 days ago.
And
Guess what...
Despite all these years,
You make my heart
Beat so fast,
Whenever I dream of You,
That is ten times a day.
And when my eyes
Get locked to the sky
Over Paris
I see your smile
And your face
In every sunshine.
Tell me how you do it.
Do you use magic?
So I willingly
And slowly
Become your slave,
Prisoner of my
Life time quest
For You.