"Dreaming of warmth won't do a thing;
making a fire will."

Every thought I have feels quite artistic,
Poetic, thoughtful, dramatic,
Whatever you may choose to call it.

But how do I express these thoughts to others,
When most of them come in the form of sounds, feelings and colours?

Though it may not have been as beautiful as I imagined
The day we watched the world end was my favorite

You painted the scenery and I sang you limericks
Our hearts never could understand society

I think this was the moment we were waiting for
A place where there were no more expectations

As the fires waged, your brush strokes replied
Every shout and cry could be replaced by another line

I know some may not understand,
But there really isn’t much to

There hasn't been such a simple existence
We had each other, and that was all we needed

Just as Nero played the lyre while watching Rome burn
You and I created on the day the world ended

Is there love for another?
Much like this?
One's that unconditional,
unrestricted.
One so free...
That skeptical eyes would miss.

The beauty in such a commitment,
can't be quantified in greens or gold.
Unbound by petty materialism...
That jingles and folds.

It's invaluable...
Only to the ones who would see
and acknowledge it.
It's coveted only by those
who fearlessly dare
to embrace it.

So...

Strive for unconditional love.
For it is the greatest gift,
anyone could receive
and bestow.
For it will be the sun
that fires
the beats in your heart.
For it is the abundant glow
cascading...
From the moon's
limitless flow.

At night I lie awake,
My mind begins to run away from the reality
I wish to escape

Sometimes I am a poet,
Sitting at my mahogany desk,
Writing in perfect calligraphy,
That I've spent millions of years perfecting,
The ink from my quill staining this parchment,
Painting my thoughts unto the world,
Better than my brush ever could.

Sometimes I am a singer,
Staring into the void of an auditorium,
Breathing out my heart and soul,
For a small group of people,
That have suddenly become my universe.

Sometimes I am in his arms,
Soft kisses brushing the hairs atop my head,
His arms around me,
His heartbeat matched only by my own,
Our song quietly escaping his lips,
Lulling me to sleep.

Or…

Millions of light-years away,
Where I no longer am me,
I just am.
I am one with everything,
The glowing gas clouds,
Sparkling,
Filled with millions,
Billions,
Trillions, of tiny stars.

The stars reflected in my eyes,
Their fire setting my heart ablaze,
And I lose all thought.

There,
Among the stars,
I am free...

the sun will rise again, yes;
but wishing won't bring it back
*any sooner