my mind is in shackles.
no matter how hard i try to break free from your grasp
i have no choice but to think of you.

my body is electric.
i try to tell myself to relax, have patience
but my fingers tap, my heartbeat quickens.

you have a hold on me.
the slightest breeze in the air reminds me of you,
and then all my control blows away too.

all day long
my eyelids are doors
that want nothing more than to close,
my mind is a light
dimmed and flickering just before it goes out,
and my body is wind on a summer day,
slow, calm, dissolved.

but the second night falls,
everything awakens.

Like bubbles racing to the top of an opened soda can,
all my thoughts
and dreams
and ideas
and worries
and doubts
and excitements
and fears
come surging up from the depths of my being
and begin to bounce and fizzle within my mind.

How can I sleep now?

I plant so many seeds
With a smile on my face

Eagerly water them
And admire them from the window

But from the window I see all the buds
And my excitement turns to panic

How can I tend to all these flowers?
How could one be expected to do this?

I turn from the window
And never look back.

Now and again I think of my flowers
As if they were frozen just how I left them- as blossoms.

But deep down I know better,
They have withered away.

To distract from this
I turn to a new field

There is a daisy!

How lovely it would be

If there were a whole field of daisies!


And so it begins.

words are music
words are grace

words are knives
leaving wounds without a trace

words can inspire
and words can ****

merely a collection of sounds
with which power we fill

so use your words wisely
think before you speak

for words are indeed
the furthest thing from weak

time is a fascinating concept
one that i seem to grasp for a moment
but in another moment
it is an abstract idea once more

time moves along swiftly
ticking on and on
with no regard
to what it is passing by

time is greedy
it takes everything it touches
everything that we do, say think,
time will take

yet we have conquered time in certain ways
we have fought its persistent arms
using memory as our weapon

memory creates immortality
and it is for that reason that time's captives,
the past,
live on.

humans try
foolishly
to create their own gravity

the beauty around them
they claim
drawing it in
artificially
as if it exists
only to affect them

silly, isn't it?

I know you're gone,
but yet you're still here.

I can feel your presence
in my heart so near.

When I most need strength
I find it in you.

I have found my purpose:
to live life for you.

You are in me,
of this I am sure

For when I feel alone or scared
you come to me as a cure.

I hear your voice,
I feel your love,

and in those dark moments,
I know you are smiling at me from above.

Time has passed
and I still shed a tear

But I know you are with me,
a little bird in my ear.