As she runs through the forest, smitten with excitement, she passes tall pines and even fallen pines, in an effort to find the lover ahead of her.
He walks in a daze, as if stuck in a daydream, rendered useless by the magnification of her beauty and the way he feels with her arms wrap as tightly as she can around him in embrace.
She stops to call his name, never thinking of who, or what, else may come calling instead, for she does not fear the woods, but the thought of never seeing her love again.
He begins to become impatient with not knowing the locality of his precious love, and he begins to quicken his pace in his most confident direction, feeling only with his heart.
She is having indecision in her selection of direction, and doubts her current course, stopping again to ponder the true path she should take....creeping thoughts of the forest come after unfamiliar noises arose.
He is in full sprint, looking franticly in each direction as he runs, yelling her name with each possible breath he can spare, sure to find her quickly reserving no vigor for potential encounters.
She is starting to despair with the thought of being lost and never finding her prince, she cries such tears, that she creates a stream with the tears for her lost love.
He begins to tire and feels distraught over the whereabouts of his love, he know she is alone in the forest, and in his anguish stumbles upon a stream, he splashes the warm water on his face washing away grief.
As night falls, she begins to realize that she may never find her love, and she cries harder, until her tears and herself...become the stream in her bereavement
As shade covers all, he sees her in his heart, but fears he will never see her again, and to avoid cold he finds refuge in the pools of the warm stream....becoming a tree in his sorrow.
Ages pass...a young boy sits at the base of a very large tree and watches the stream of the warmest water disappear into the tree...living together forever...one is the purpose...the other the life.
The tree cannot be without the water......but the water is not needed without the tree...

Loved,
Desired,
Aspects that are to be collected,
A loving embrace seemingly so effortless,
Sacrifices made to unite two as one,
An admiration of two never undone,
But a bridge never properly strung.

Fire,
Passion,
Built from within,
None to contend,
The burning of my pen,
Or was it my heart,
Confused from the start.

Placate
Compassion
So easily to forget,
No longer to restore what tore apart in the hastiest regret,
Broken in two foreseeing a labored path,
So we look to memories we have nominated,
Never thinking to glance back at the carnage we have abated.

Distraught,
Pieces,
But, never once ashamed,
Because only in my inner destruction,
Lies the source of my abstain,
Disconnect my heart, so effortless one would say,
Sounding much too simple, easy, and plain.

When I look into the sky I see forever
Wary clouds of the infinitesimal kind
Water may wash the dirt away
Wind can lead a heart home
Wisdom wants to direct the path
While instinctual feet trudge on
Wild are the hairs pulled premature 
Wasted on a sense of needed advancement
Waging enraged regret for oats poorly sown
Where have all the past time gone
Were all of the nah sayers wrong
Will the breezes cry my song.

Happy,
loving,
joyous and free.
What would the world be without, a hug?

Laughing,
smiling,
shout and cry.
Where would we be without, a friend?

Excited,
jubilation,
elated and uncontainable.
Why would the world be without, a kiss?

Sad,
upset,
solitude and regret.
Who would we be without, a pain?

Falling,
losing,
death and despair.
How could the world exist without, a love?

When is it the end,
Who is my beginning,
what is my decision,
where is my heart to go now,
why is trying again so hard,
how is this hole in my heart supposed to heal?

I'm going to love you like the floorboards do. I'm going to touch you like your bedroom walls never could; lay your forehead against me like the shower wall and try to recount every lie you ever told laying down. Your nails will hold me against the headboard in a dark act of crucifixion; I have been dying of your sins since before I understood that they were not the kinds that I should love, and perhaps this is not the kind of love that ends well on glossy pages but it is the only love I know. I was a nearly dead stray on your doorstep and you fed me pretty words from your hands like you knew how to take care of things that had no home (despite having never had one of your own). You know too well how your name sounds when your hand is on my knee, you know too well how your name sounds when you are coaxing the life out of me, as though my trachea were the back door of your apartment, and you know how deadly you are with a look on your face that burns like the candles in a chapel but never melts - I sit vigil over your dead body but your ghost is always touching me, you are always bringing out the worst in me and stretching it out like sheets over a ****** mattress and I cannot take care of myself and I am incapable of breathing until you are watching me.