Calm is the morn without a sound,
  Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
  And only thro' the faded leaf
The chestnut pattering to the ground:

Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
  And on these dews that drench the furze,
  And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:

Calm and still light on yon great plain
  That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
  And crowded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the bounding main:

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
  These leaves that redden to the fall;
  And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
  And waves that sway themselves in rest,
  And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.

And I love you
And I love you
And I know that it's wild
And I know you don't always feel this too
But I see you and I see you
And I only see you
And I know you think I'm acting a fool
And I know you never said that
But I see you and I see you
And when I see you,
I see you later and I see you then
And it starts when I see you now
I see you later
And when I love you now
I love you later
Because even with the if's
And even with the and's
And even when your love is not now
And if your love is not later
I'll feel it even when you don't
And I'll love you
And I'll love you.

Here’s the church,
here’s the steeple.
Open the door
and see all the people.

Slam it shut.
Shatter the glass.
Because it feels
this too won’t pass.

Please just wait;
see it through
Then you’ll realize,
every little thing you do.

All that you are
is all that we do,
our time is best utilized
serving as glue.

Pick up your cross,
but have no fright,
because I know
there will always be a light.

It may seem obtuse,
but your sight will shift.
Only then can you make good use
of his precious gift.

Dare to try.
Intuition is keen.
Trust in yourself.
Create beauty
from a sorrowful scene.

And when the time is right
to reflect on your life,
I hope you can say
you’ve been stained
through the power of strife.

mKp (3/3)

Sipping mixed vermouth
Light meditation
    on love and truth
Conjuring lines of ancestral breaths
Wondering which crossed similar tests
My grandfathers
    who labored the same
My brave grandmothers
    conquered no fame
Whisper now
    'cross space-time's gap
It's the one we share
    reach over, tap
You must live quiet, in my heart
If just a small bit, a tiny part
Your blood goes on, in my veins
Beats remain, while others refrain
You're a buried memory
    a forgotten voice
I'll listen to you now
    if I had the choice

There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling’s dull decay;
’Tis not on youth’s smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast,
But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.

Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness
Are driven o’er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess:
The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain
The shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch again.

Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down;
It cannot feel for others’ woes, it dare not dream its own;
That heavy chill has frozen o’er the fountain of our tears,
And though the eye may sparkle still, ’tis where the ice appears.

Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,
Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest,
’Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath—
All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath.

Oh, could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been,
Or weep as I could once have wept, o’er many a vanished scene;
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,
So, midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow to me.