Of those great moments,
the ones where epiphanies occur,
be they on the loo,
or in the stunning view,
they occur more often than not,
in solitude.

How many times have you dreamt of her?
Wishing, praying, hoping,
How many times have you silently sat in a corner?
Amidst a crowd of people you know,
Longing to be....away.....

How often do you look out your window?
Often at night to see the few stars
That aren't hidden by the cities lights,
How many times have you found yourself alone?
Sitting in a dark tunnel,
No light in any direction,
Sinking into despair.
How many times have you wanted to escape?
How often?
Frequently?
Intermittently?
Rarely?
How often?

I feel like I'm drowning some days,
My burdens weighing me down,
Dragging me to the depths,
All hope and light fading.

It's slow
It's painful
It's deep


It isn't over.
This isn't the end of me.
And suddenly I can breathe.
Fresh and easily.
Air.
Life.
Hope.

Something lifted the weight,
Someone took my place,
This isn't the end of me.

It shouldn't be the end of you.

We shall sleep long into the night,
Our bodies stirring from time to time,
Our eyes are shut, but we still see a world,
We have walked from the wings into the light.

Actors on our own stage,
The set our own design,
The plot our fears,
Our deepest desires,
A beauteous melody lingers,
It fills the air with sweet scents,
Vivid colours, flashes here and there.

The time seems short,
But the story long,
The meanings lost at the time,
But after you awake,
There's only moments to remember,

Lest it drift away,
Unlikely to be remembered,
Forgotten.

An aged battleship retires,
A child with a newborn sibling,
Last months trends and desires,
Or even last years Christmas giftings.

Old news.
Unfortunate.
Used and abused.
Neglected.

Old ****** news.

Alone* in the dark, I sat reclined,
My mind bickering, between thoughts.
Questions I have asked Time and again.
Each time asked met with a response
Different from the last. Oh, How this is very
Normal.

Festering away, burrowing deep,
Exposing ideas long since forgotten.
Scintillas of pain here and there,
Shame and shock, pride and joy,
The entire spectrum of emotions.

Dredge up my mind, 
Till this fertile soil,
Until this mind, indeed my soul too,
Is firmly planted,
Bearing fruit.

But what if I should bear a multitude
Of fruits!? What then? Was this meant 
To be? Or is it a defect and I need to start -
again?

Quite a quandary,
Perplexing predicaments,
This is the modern day
I'm really quite over it,
These.... Feelings...

How things do change!
Out with the old,
In with the new,
This is the way of the modern age.
But that's not my problem,
My problem is emotions!

How do you cope?
How do you survive?
Where do you put them?
Why does it hurt?
Sure, they aren't all bad,
But some are definitely *******!

There's nothing wrong with feeling,
There's nothing wrong with me,
There's something in the air,
Something that makes me feel anything but free!

But the world is not as dull as it was,
Nor did I see the colourful beauty,
The trees lost their life,
The music a little slower,
The river a little stagnant,
The air a little stale.

Day in,
Day out.

How is this fair?
Stressful emotions,
Is this right? Fair? Just?
It doesn't seem right
That these emotions cause stress.
Stresses on the soul,
Weighing heavily on the heart.

My perspective changes!
One day it's abrasive,
The next is smooth and easy,
One is logical, the next is chaotic!

For this is my life,
Emotions born of experience,
Experience produces a reaction,
Reaction produces action,
Action produces experience.

A wheel of emotion and perspective,
It alters my life,
Day in,
Day out.

Despite my youth, I yearn for my past!
To relive some little joyful part of it,
To remember and feel such a blast,
That it is forever recommitted and I not forget
That all I am is borne of those moments!

Ah yes, small moments maybe,
But a big ripple can be made by a small stone,
And times in my life that are happy,
Far outweigh those that would see me undone,
Keeping me fresh years after they occurred,
I wish to travel back!
Just for a day!

In my ideal world,
There's no you, no them,
You see it's my world,
A construct of my imagination.

A glass of scotch, a piece of swing
Blaring for all to hear,
Eyes shut, as I'm lounging,
My legs rest on the arm, without a care,
Small gentle sips,
A warm burn, and sensation,
Slowly drifting,
Away,
           Away,
                       Away,
Away into my own mentality,
Imagining my little place of peace,
A slight bite of heaven,
A taste of something, something just for me.
Here, I'm never down-trodden,
But cheerful and amazingly,
Happy.

In the world of a simple scotch
And the sound of a piece of swing,
Oh that this world would be,
Something of a reality.

Not too much, not too little,
But just right,
That'd bring me such delight,
If only it lasted a little.

Back in the sands of time,
Before the voices of the Aenílì sung,
And created one and all,
Rua'grain' battled with his brothers, and sisters.

For two thousand millennia, Rua'grain fought,
And it is this that bore the children of evil.

Rua'grain defeated, was cast out of immortality
Consigned to live a mortal life.
Stripped of divinity, he maintained his hold on one power,
His voice.

For whilst his brothers and sisters sung angelic song,
Creating all that was good.
He alone sung twisted music, creates spirits of evil,
His children.

And silently his power and dominion grew!

What a lonely little road!
Shadows creep on either side!
The end is in sight,
then it was yesterday too!
how can this be?
what trickery could this be?

I'm almost at wits end,
i'm almost going to surrender.
the whispering shadows follow you.
they scream, cry and howl at you,
begging you to join them.

Don't.
Do not let go!
It may be beyond reach!
but STRIVE!
Re-e-e-each!
For ***** Sake,
Re-e-e-each!

The rains sing a steady song,
Building and fading,
The birds warble, it sounds like a throng,
But alas, these moments are brief!

The city wears this beauteous
Cloak of cloud, and adds divine
Autumnal colours! A fine display for us.
This city, this city is mine.

Listen closely to the sounds of the city,
It's quiet now, it is not busy
If ever it is only graceful and calm
It's full of life and has its charm.

What effect the rains have upon this place,
Turning it from dry, to bustling life!
Adding bright colours to the scene,
The rains are a welcome blessing!

Take ten paces apart,
then turn and I shall start
My count up to three,
after which you may feel free
to take your shot,
and hope to miss not
the man who has challenged you
for failing to pay respects long due.

One,
Two,
Three,
Cracks on either side,
groans and moans of pain,
one of sweet relief.
Deep breaths, and forced composure.

Even as his aids assist him,
they are cool and calm as ever.
The duel is over,
and that is that.

I've loved you since the very first day,
even if I never did quite say "hey".
I've loved you more than my past,
and time with you has gone so fast.

We've had our fights, and tiffs,
its seemed at times like we're on the edge of a cliff.
I've always loved you, like its all I ever could do,
and strangely enough, for the first time, its all I want to so.

What started as friendship,
its grew into a relationship.
What started as friendly love,
grew into passionate love.

I'm not ashamed to admit I love you,
but my dear, If I ever lost you,
I could very well live half a life,
for without you I'd only have half a life.

I've always loved you
It's like its fact, in fact it is.
Theres so much I want to do for you,
but thats not for this.

You're a filthy little *******,
you were always undesired!
You look like ****,
and also smell like it.

You're a worthless little *****
who I wish I could kick.
Of course you dress like a ******
and I could say bye with ease.

You inspire the worst in me,
Please! Just leave me be.

Of course its easy enough
to say the worst,
to a realistic reflection
in the mimicking mirror.

Men have been great,
from birth till death,
from Jesus to Napoleon,
Men have been great.

But what is it that makes men 'Great'?
Is it compassion and heart?
Passion and intensity?
Ferocity and battles?
humility and wisdom?
It depends on who you ask.

Fame perhaps, makes these men great,
thats something they all have in common.
A positive reputation in the eyes of someone,
be it a follower, a supporter, a believer.

What is 'greatness'?
such a good question.
What makes men 'great'?
Another good question.
The time has come
to ponder on this final question,

"Can I too be great?"

His eyes spat fire far and wide,
his temper flared like hells rage.
There were few who assuaged him,
only the enemies who lay dead.

He searched the globe in fierce pursuit,
wanting them all dead and rotting.
He would bury them wherever he be,
On land or deep raging seas.

If ever they should tell my story,
what would they say?
How would they say it?
He lived the common life?
Plain as one could live?

Aye, this seems fair, but I pray
this is not that all my life should be.
I hope it grows to something extravagant,
well and truly before I die.

Being great at something,
it doesn't make it any easier.
In time perhaps you might
accept it, and acclimatise,
being a good soldier,
it doesn't necessarily make it easier
to shoot your opponents down.

Being great at something,
it doesn't make you immune to pressures.
Nor the mock and ridicule.
There is a lot to consider,
when being great at something.

Who sits amongst the tree tops,
peering down, inquisitively poking his nose?
Ah, yes! The little Nature boy.
The forgotten child whom nature has reclaimed.

Why it was years ago now, but yes, still
I remember. Eerie foggy mornings,
the quiet groan of the forests, and the distant
rustle of the foliage, above and around them.

Then, as if by some cruel plot,
a ravenous pack of animals wild,
bore down upon them,
one, two, three to a person,
weapons fired, weapons dropped,
useless, now they lay lifeless.

Yet, by some strange miracle
the boy survived. He grew and grew
eating of the plants and fruits
which the forest gave.
And, until this day he is a mystery
but a mystery people long to see.

There are some things in life,
Some which are absurd,
some which are misunderstood,
and Some which cause strife.
One such thing falls under all three,
Love.

In my youthful folly, I suffered,
t'was no ones fault but mine,
I was infatuated, obsessed, and ensnared
by passions of the youthful times.

In an age where magazines speak of beauty,
looks, and all forms of apparel (or lack thereof)
where sister fights sister in attempts to catch an eye
and hopefully secure for themselves a man.

My heart was stolen, it was fractured and broken,
by a woman who knew not who she was,
or who she could be, but she is forgiven..
That does not alleviate my guilty conscience.

When on my knees and in the tempest,
I began to lose my faith and heart.
He came in humble Glory,
he came in all his unfailing love.

A display of unending grace...
where he knew all I had done,
but still wiped my slate clean,
and sat me next to his throne.

My broken heart was struck with affliction,
burdened by weights of guilt and shame,
yet, t'was Gods great grace in perfection,
alleviated me and freed me from the devils game.

I'm not perfect, I still do some shameful things,
but his grace is sufficient, and ever present.
Always washing over my soul is my Kings
unfailing love. He gave me an eternal present.

He took my place.
Delivered me grace.
Tore asunder my chains,
and alleviated my pains.

He is My king,
He is My God,
He is My brother,
He is My creator.

I love him.
I praise him.
I worship him.
Always and Forever,
Amen.

I was no ordinary child,
if anything I was something mild.
My Friends were not always people,
but something more desirable.

For one day, as chance did have it,
I was walking through the store,
my parents just behind me, then, there it
was, that teddy bear I began to adore.

I raved and I got excited...
There was simply this wonderful bear,
and to receive it, I would have been delighted,
but...Little did I know the story of this bear.

Many weeks if not months had passed,
Christmas fell upon us, and in the passions
of removing christmas wrappings, I had
seen the white fur, I thought is was illusions.

But nay, It was my bear from the store,
wrapped in a box, with his sapphire cloak
and his lovely soft and white fur,
and it was never a cruel joke.

Now, However, Its tale is somewhat sadder,
He sits enthroned on a shelf, ne'er seeing use,
recognition or thanks. It must be a kind of abuse,
to leave this bear sitting on the shelf each day growing sadder.

I would like to make a change,
but unfortunately I had to age.

Tally-**, Tally-**!
On our way we shall go!
Merrily, merrily we shall hunt!
Pursuing the fox with hound and mount!

Over brush, under felled tree,
dashing and bolting the fox eludes us.
Round the hills, still running free,
this amber devil can make sudden disappearance.

On the hills crest sat an idle oak,
still as can be, without a single leaf,
No noises were heard, no great croak
or bellowing moans, just silent relief.

It must have felt quite isolated,
had it a song, what words it would sing.

The world is bleak, the young die
while old live on,
fewer and fewer are born,
till none survive and its the beginning of the end.

But here, Amidst the chaos, amidst the desperation,
amidst the troubles and woes of the world,
a significant chance of hope,
a woman with child, provides hope to the hopeless.

Months into the process, it seems supernatural,
a world of hopelessness, and here the mother to be hides.
Kept hidden, kept "safe", extorted, "protected"
and then, rescued and led on the necessary mission.

Born in a camp, a slum, a ghetto,
those dulcet tones were heard.
The infants cries resounded,
and hope was then restored.

Such an infant could bring the peoples
up from their knees. To resume life as it should
be. To ensure that man survives,
first it has to survive Man.

Oh this feeling, the way you make me feel
is naught but solid and true. Ever present,
and always makes me feel slightly delusional,
it sometimes falters, but is widely consistent.

Theres a shift in the weather, a difference in the air,
its something of a sweeter aroma, delightful to the senses.
Its calming, giving rise to these joyful fantasies, but they are
sometimes taken to far, so I keep them penned up behind fences.

There are adjectives plenty to describe you,
and many qualities can be ascribed to your name.
For your heart is golden, your words wise, your view
on life is positive and difficult to thoroughly maintain.

Your profound adoration for puppy, child, and rose
Is much to blame for my insane admiration of you.
Theres something about your personality that grows
increasingly in such favour of something within you thats true.

Ay, yes, Its true, theres something wonderful about you,
It sees me through the deepest swells when I am blue.
I could sit in your presence and be grieved by sorrowful news,
and still you'd bring me comfort, and remedy my bout of the blues.

Why do you hide away what beauty you possess,
don't flaunt it true, but please don't sequester it.
Make proud your heart in your beauty, as it pleases
the eye, and makes glad the soul who cherishes it.

I find myself laid low to the ground,
when your hand lowered extends out toward me.
I find myself happy and in the presence of love found
and in my arms, is the person who sees me free.

There is something in me that wants me to scream
nothing of pain and agony, but in joy and profound happiness.
For there is something in my life that whilst it may seem
temporary, is the permanent source of so much joyfulness.

What eerie Mists, and Mysterious frosts
lay waste to this lively heart, that all its aspects
beauteous they may be, subjected to the rigorous
threats and faults of sinful life. They hope to besmirch
this lively heart.

The stormy gales, the warm clear skied vales,
all apart of this world twisted routines,
"Good Cop, Bad Cop' as it were, flawed.
When it is ridden on this routine, it soared.

The winter has subsided, the Summer has blossomed,
and all this vale does is resemble the good nature of the heart.
No matter what it is subjected too, it shall eventually be returned
and all this world will not thrive till hate is removes from the heart.

Have we not got dreams?
Have we lost hope for Good?
Have we reduced life to narrow parameters?
Is there life beyond the text and PM?

Once, not long ago,
I yearned for the pen and page,
now, I find myself mulling
and withering in front of the screen.

Can it be helped?
Can it be fought?
Can it be resolved?
That this is not my limits!

There is more than,
'Nathan has sent you a message'
which flicks on and off my internet tab,
There is more than that.

There is more than this vacuum lets on,
a master behind it,
who sits before it,
lost without, but found without it.

See the evening colour palette?
Of fading blues and enchanting reds,
yellows, and ambers, they fall upon
the eyes. Golden in combination,
warming and enlivening to the soul.

Reminding you of some fantasy world,
where endless plains of amber grasses dance.
Where you wish your lifes short moments
could be spent for eternity with her.

T'would make the world seem inadequate,
but still, a dream doesn't die,
it ignites the flame of the soul within,
the passionate will and desire.

So gaze out! Look at the world,
immersed in the amber light
of days last light, and beauteous sunset,
that its beauty is enhanced ten-fold.

IN the Rose Gardens,
Down by the riverside,
Sequestered by high hedge,
Riddled with beds and trees.

The Youthful Couple,
Mediocre at first, fall into sync,
They make their way,
enjoying the Rose Garden.

They intertwine their fingers,
and take a moment to admire views,
and sights. They move elegantly,
promoting closeness rather than distance.

They are at the height of joy,
they are together,
they profoundly adore each other,
and one they love.

They provide a new sensation,
their bellies tingle and tickle.
A dance resemblant of the butterflies flutter,
felt to their core.

What is the cause?
profound yearning, and desire,
not of lusts, but loves,
Love for one another.

This is the Rose Garden sensation,
Perhaps you're lucky to have it,
or soon find it,
all have their luck.

You look at me,
with eyes that bring me glee,
those starlight eyes,
is it of no surprise,
that I adore you,
and those starlight eyes.

What is this feeling,
I get so strongly,
its like I'm stargazing,
its like I'm drifting freely,
Deeper and deeper,
into those starlight eyes.

You look at me with those darling eyes,
in my life I start to feel a new sunrise,
I'm o'erwhelmed by those dreamy eyes,
all worries within me subside,
at the sight of those starlight eyes.

Is it of no surprise?
I get lost in your starry eyes,
they hold so much, and don't disguise
the matters of which one cries,
its your starlight eyes,
which makes Joy in my heart arise.

I'm crazy about you,
all other words are superfluous.
I dare not utter about you,
they are useless.

My mind has you fixed,
My heart has you to stay.
The fact is: I'm more than just crazy,
I wish I could show you.

I'm not like the rest.
I don't do much sport,
I don't like to watch it,
talk about it,
I like to write poetry,
and pose the questions that count.


I like to ask: Why am i crazy about you?
because I know i am!
With every fibre, every millimetre of nerve
in my mortal imperfect body,
I know and feel my heart for you.

A passionate flame,
spread like a wildfire
throughout my being,
a delirious joy,
a unending happiness,
some call it rare,
some call it a lie,
I call it true,
because its caused by you.

He's keen, he's ready,
standing to, and eagerly awaiting
codeword: Irene.

What's this?
He's gone all soft and shy,
how can he push into the task?
Why he's of no use,
back to barracks with him.

Yet, he'll try and try again,
brave and upright,
he'll somehow get a fright,
and its off to barracks again.

The mind of this boy, it swelled,
full of 'what-ifs?' and his passion, it shrunk,
the officer in sight,
sent him packing,
all the way back to barracks.

For you see,
at first his courage was great,
but before even the call came,
he was shy and timid,
just at the thought of his duties,
and he grew disheartened,
and was sent back to barracks

At the Sound of the creation music,
The stars did sound of trumpets,
cymbals, flutes, and lyres,
one gargantuan united harmony,
the music of the stars
which reached across the blackness,
and birthed the world.

Illuminating the First World,
and inciting the creation,
of man, and elf, and dwarf,
and all others beholding to the land.

Light, then Birthed Darkness,
the shadows and fires,
then the wars,
breeding disastrous conflicts,
and opening wide, deaths doors

This is for she who is Love-ly,
the one who each passing day,
displays a fierce passion for me,
the one who is absolutely, Love-ly.

The way she speaks, exuding grace,
the way she moves, proving elegance,
The way she thinks, re-affirming wisdom,
the way she cares, lifting hearts.

She is Love-ly,
she makes me feel above all, Happy.
If she were to say, 'you're great!'
for no reason at all,
I'd feel a warmth behind the words,
simply because they come from her,
and she. is. Love-ly.

Such a Love-ly woman,
in possession of such a rare
collection of qualities,
one cannot help but see, and say,
She Is Love-Ly.

I wandered as a lonely shadow,
no substance, subject to the light,
nothing my own,
Subject to him,
the motions of a sinner,
the hurt inflicted.

No action is mine.

I am a shadow,
I've no hold or being.
It hurts being taken for a long ride.

IN a state of brokenness,
With hands tied I look to you,
My souls waters stirred,
My Saviour,
beaten, and I'm ashamed.
My Saviour,
slain for my sins,
and I'm ashamed,
I'm ashamed.

Christ Crucified,
put to death,
a death which set me free,
Now, I'm free,
free forever in him.

Unyielding love,
he called me from the darkness,
his purpose for me to live,
for me to survive,
and in him, Thrive.

My soul untied,
by the saviour who died
my hands purified,
by the man who died,
My heart sanctified,
by the Son who died.

He broke my chains,
he conquered my shame,
he led me to light,
he showed me how to love,
he revealed me to myself,
unmasked, unashamed,
I am free,
set free by the man who died for me.

I'm in awe,
beauteous amazement,
I'm in praise of him,
king of kings,
I'm in worship of him,
the lord of lords,
standing in awe of him,
the risen king.

'Watch out!' one of them cries,
then theres the one who denies,
he's broken by the surprise.
The Patrol found him out,
now he's only left to pout.

The rest skilfully scramble,
no hint, no sign,
the patrol walks on through the jungle.
Then, at Five to Nine,
all are uprooted, marched off,
single file. To the holding pen,
awaiting the work they mingle and cough,
one might escape only to be returned to the men.

Meticulously planned,
cunning is the patrol,
it weeds out the trouble makers,
and prospers the vigilant.

Of all the women I know,
She alone, stands out.
She walks with an air of grace,
Of gentility and kindess.

Days may come, hours may pass,
and still my love of her will never
meet its end. I see her heart,
it draws me nearer each moment.

One could say, I love her,
One could say I'm in awe of her,
I say, To love her is to worship her,
and to pursue her just as the Father
pursues her.

The seed of the tree,
tho' it may fall in a gust of wind,
or with the weight of the rains,
still will take root and grow,
blossom and bloom, only when the time
is right. When the season is at hand,
and its flowers bloom,
and bees and birds spread its seeds
far and wide,
and soon enough,
the whole countryside is filled
with the ocean of colours.

All for the seed taking root and growing
when the season was right,
and not a moment too soon,
nor too late.

Have patience with me,
I'm an aged relic, a distant memory,
to catch up takes all I can be,
please, be patient and keep me company.

I want to be with you,
more than what this world could offer,
I would forsake it,
Just for a day with you.

Within the chasms of Stone,
the great halls of the mountain
king, men of the mountains,
dig in search of treasures gone.
With eager minds bent on gold,
gems, all forms of greed,
obsessed with the things of old,
they dig, and they dig,
Ignoring advice to which they should take heed.

Their tunnels stretch endlessly,
they are dim lit,
holding all manner of mystery,
there is no way out of it.
Men tunnel into this curious maze,
but a spell cast over the mountain
secures them inside, keeping them in a haze.

This is how he gains new slaves,
taking advantage of mens greed.
He knows the way out,
never will he be made to use it.
This is his domain of might stone,
deep within the mountains side.

With blackened eyes,
and messy beard,
a crown of marble,
he rules the mountains.

Beneath the Amber sun,
above the reflection of the waters,
his armies did assemble,
ready to smash, bash, and gnash,
the hope of the Fea'inor
dwindled.
Numbered so few, that any host of evil
could easily leave them ruined,
Rua'grain, absorbed the fears,
and disolved the confidence,
until, Mædhras, delivered words inspiring
to all.
'Be brave my fellow warriors,
that this day Evil may take not one
step more, and We the free,
may tell the tales of this day.
Fight not for the chance that you
may live, but that your children,
your wives, you families may have
just one beloved day more!
Waste not that which is sacred,
be not careless with your lives,
but fight for that one extra day.
It is worth it.'

Resounding horns, echoing on the waters,
the flash of steel, magnified by the reflection,
the hearts of Men, united with Old Allies,
once more bore a flame, akin to none
beheld before.
The force of Good with swiftness moved,
the host of Rua'grain,
creatures from every shadow,
crevasse, and lair,
assembled to have at the free and fair.

10,000 creatures, all with sullied eyes
stampeded in a wild craze.
With courage, the Fea'inor defended,
pushing back against the rage,
fighting to the last,
and making this en-darkened host pay.

Mædhras, stands, resolute upon the eastern shore,
his foes strewn all about him,
smote upon the bloodied shore.
His courage unyielding,
strength unending,
the host of evil festering around him.

To his call his men did rally,
showing all valor and courage,
defending, and assaulting,
inflicting devastation upon they
who sought to destroy fea'inor' homes.

In one final push,
one last show of strength,
Mædhras lead his men
along the endless shore,
and forced his sword,
gleaming and rubied,
into Rua'grains soulless chest,
The Host of Evil, corruption
and all villainy departed,
fleeing for the hills,
and making a victorious sound,
Fea'inor went in humbled pursuit.

Yet, along the endless shore,
after all Good and Evil had left
these two figureheads engaged
in the greatest combat,
Locked for all eternity,
to create the birth of Day,
and death of Night.

You see,
its not just me,
its common to the world,
hurt by this love, so called.

We walk around,
hurting,
in each step a burden,
a curse,
seeking some blessed relief,
finding only suffering,
we walk with knives in our hearts.

A generation,
all of whom have scars,
are being scarred,
inflicting the most horrific pain,
a generation with knives,
knives protruding from their hearts.


a generation without smiles,
with gloomy faces all around,
dreading each day,
each step, each task,
as we slowly gather more and more knives,
knives we keep in our heart,
because we're too busy to remove them,
or scared of the pain.

So we walk around with knives in our hearts,
it seems easier...
but this is insane.

Take not leave of senses,
that in the course of time,
you might discover something divine,
that is masked in multiple guises,
which men find dear,
and if tragically missed,
requires the upset soul to persist,
for this is not just difficult to bear,
but burdensome from that moment on,
until the wearied soul captivated again,
pursues the new found love, and ends the game,
that life cruelly, and foully puts on.

Just to think,
that mere months ago,
my days were somewhat duller,
life somewhat meagre,
then...
one marvellous day...
I finally met you,
and things started to bloom,
greys became blues,
whites became brights,
all because I began to fall for you.

Now, If I'm a fool,
if things go awry,
then i'll just have to think,
my life is better because of what
you caused in me,
Love to bloom.

You ask me frequently,
why do I love you?
and this is my heartfelt reply,
I love you to the core,
regardless of the past
you're on brand new shores,
forget about the past,
Let me love you.
You're beautiful,
you don't flaunt it,
nor do you ignore it,
I choose to embrace it,
and let the world know,
I love it.

Yes, Loving you is quite a joy,
to try and put a smile on your dimpled face,
to make you feel admired, wanted, liked,
To have a smile waiting for you,
and to have someone who wants to be with you.

Yes Im absolutely crazy,
crazy about you,
yes I'm simply mad,
madly in love with you,
you see, you think you're worth nothing,
you're worth everything to me,
and you feel like things will never change,
things changed the moment I fell for you.

I cannot say i'm perfect,
i can say I love you,
because I'm seriously mad about you,
you may think you're not worth it,
but thats just a lie,
you're completely worth it.
and Loving you is easy,
because you're so important to me.