To understand is a gift.
Understanding a situation,
Knowing what you must do.
Feeling what's around you.

But Hells fire is made of passion.
Thunder is made of pounding hearts.
Lightning is created when they collide.
And that's when understanding shifts.

I understand its wrong. Chaotic even. Destructive? But what can you do?
Can others make the choice for us?
Why can't we let go?

To be romantic is to promise spontaneity.
Candles and stars, moons and waves.
To be adventurous is to accept change.
Likes and dislikes, new hobbies and passions.

Lets the sparrow fly freely.
Let the sailor follow her.
Let the siren sing melodies.
Let the sailor join in song.

Rome wasnt built in a day
So how was this achieved in a week?
We cannot speak...
And its killing me.

It hasn't even been a day,
But I can't wait to see you tonight.
Can't help but think of you.
You say we have nothing in common.

But you're an artist, a romantic,
A teacher an enthusiast.
But you're not a dreamer.
Don't raise the bar too low for yourself.

I know we shouldn't talk.
But this is hoping you'll read this.
To be professional is to act in a certain way.
But can you be professional in how you feel?

A wolf can wear sheep's clothing,
Yet he will still howl the night away.
A dagger can be carved like a flower,
yet it still cuts deeper then a roses thorn.

I am what I am.
I feel how i feel.
Should we deny it?
Should we hide it?

You say we are nothing alike.
You're an artist, a romantic, adventurous.
You're challenging...a teacher.
You're thinking of me and I of you.

Its mutual.
And we can help each other.
We understand each other
Because we are going through the same thing.

I can't help but think of the adventures we could have.
The long nights lost in deep discussion.
Telling tales. Planning art.
Speaking poetry.

Ugh...

The wind howls from the north.
A cold blizzard has struck;
Leaving the man astray;
But the poet couldn't stop.

A horseman approaches...
Fate? Death? Destiny?
None of those;
It was reality.

The reality of a memory never forgotten.
The reality of a touch never betrayed.
The reality of a gaze upon ones glass eyes never amiss.
The reality if it being what it is.

The winter sparrow tells an Autumn tale of lust
Medusa engraved the moment on Smokey Quartz.
The witch added the forbidden lovers spice to the brew.
And the horsemen rode off into the night with all he could take.

Yet, the poet lusts for more.
His muse, she too wants that.
But what is may never be...
Or could they both be wrong?

Only time can tell
What only the moon knows.
Until the winds howl again.
Unless they never stop.

I admire you.
The honesty, the purity
The seconds of happiness
The moments of passion

How does this moment last forever?
Without secrecy...but the same intimacy.
How does one feel?
How should we react?

What is right doesnt mean it will lead to happiness.
What is wrong doesnt mean its worth loosing what is.
But how do we know?
We dont.

Its all risks. A risk worth taking?
A risk worth fighting for?
Whatevere it was...
All it took was a single spark.


All it takes is a singe spark.
A single spark that set ablaze not just the heart.
A spark felt throught.
It never felt so good to be on fire.

But how does a spark end?
Pour water on it?
No. Not this kind of spark.
This is one that merges.

Before it dies out,
It catches fire with someone elses spark.
Fight fire with fire.
And all you get is a bigger fire.

Could the flames burn for eternity?
Die out in a day?
But, how did the spark catch on this much?
Whats so special?

Sirens preserve theirs under the moonlight.
Where the smoke creates the plantes.
The planets then orbit the earth.
Fall down and blaze up the fire again.

The Sparrow is a little more chaotic and less poetic.
She lights up her home, but she keeps adding the twigs.
Does she destroyed her own home?
Or has she created a weapon?

All it takes is a single spark,
To start a fire, a revolution, a war
And the most important thing of all.
To start the shimmerin your eye.

Like an Sparrow through the night,
She shot by.
Unaware of what she might hit.
And straight trough me it went.

What a lady she is...
Gentle and sweet, when she holds your hand.
Moulding and mesmerising, when she comes in for a hug.

Straight flowing hair, like arabian cloth.
Smooth skin, like a canvas ready to be painted.
Light eyes, that just like Alice's rabbit hole,
Keep dragging you deeper and deeper.

But what does her most justice, is no feature on the outside, no curve nor stare.
Its her enthusiasm and song.
Her creativity and voice.

Like a siren singing tunes,
Hoping to lure sailors in.
As soon as her voice hit a tune.
She dragged this sailor in.  

Shes a Siren and a Sparrow!
Adventurous, brave, bold...romantic.
Free, powerful and mysterious.
She's a Ballad.

Whats happening?
What was once green and fruitful, is turning ripe.
But I am forbidden, and so are you.

I cant help but fall...but maybe its not you.
Its not you .thats making me fall. It could be anyone.
We all want that which we cannot have.

We lust for danger. We lust for that which we shouldn't touch.
But I did touch you, and you...
Was it my heart? Or was it a coincidence?

Maybe it could have been any other person,
Maybe it could have been me?
Maybe its because I haven't been in touch with me.

I want to dance the night away.
Alone.
But I like company.

All fruits ripen.
So it's a matter of time until you ripen as well.
But how can I preserve you forever?

I love you. And you love me.
I don't want you to ripen,
Yet...you're not helping yourself.

Ive tried...I still am. But i'm tired.
Ive crossed no lines, yet made connections.
But i don't want to give up.

Am I Adam; in a garden only allowed to touch one fruit?
Am I Eve; tempted to try out new things.
Am I Lucifer; only satisfied when all else collapses around me.

I want to dance the night away.
Light a cigarette on the bridge.
I want to be alone.

Not because i want to.
But because you wont understand...
You wont understand me, you'll label me.

Im cruel: You're right.
Im harsh: You've got it.
Im unworthy: Im sorry.

Im the father of my own sins,
Im the son of my own darkness,
Im the spirit of my own demise.