Anywhere the compass may point,
It leads to a single place.
There my  hands tremble,
As thoughts accumulate into words,
Afraid it will not be enough, every time.
My guts, tighten and my heart sink deep,
Though the eyes want to tell the story,
They are afraid of someone reading it
I know it will perish- me and my poetry.
The black crow sitting on my porch,
Explains how it's vexing him.

I understand and for him, I drop the pen,
Staring at the clouds I hope for rain.

Maybe I am falling in love with this feeling of being without you.

Your whispers keep me alive in the moments that I can't breathe,
I tread lightly following; your footsteps to the unseen.
The havoc in my mind dwindles with your every touch,
I claim you in my heart but, your eyes only reach her.

Still naive, I solemnly weave myself  lies,
Not all love lasts, but I pray you will see mine.
In the distant future, when all your lovers wither into the snow,
I hope you will hear my lullaby and claim it to be your home.

I have a home for everything broken,
A home for everything that is lost.
In the  lap of imperious wind,
The treacherous surreality of wind.
What accosts to the soldiers,
Those with an ambiguous life.
What keeps them at the front,
Through dire ways of the tide?
It is the home, in the heart and the mind.
It is the home that fills the pages of life.

Lost souls, they  soar through the clouds,

With the hope of finding love.

To settle down somewhere is to return to earth,

Home to tragedies and mistrust.  



So, every atom combines to aid them  through the night,

Through the trials of wind and precipitates of the sky.  

For them, peace lies above and beyond the sun's light,

Where they either find love or heaven to rest inside.

Forever trap me in my dreams,
Where uncertainty and reality,
Blends to form a nightmare.

I wounder what would happen if I were to fly away from you,
Would I shine like the star, or perish into the blue