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When you were a young child,
you wore your naive head in the clouds.
The vastness of space was your limit,
there were no social norms to worry about.

Growing up they told you,
you should pretend that you don't care,
so when your hopes would get devastated,
disappointment could give you a spare.

And now you find yourself wondering:
when did I stop following my ambition?
The thing you regret most when you die,
is your passion's creeping omission.

Besides, how can you ever win a game,
that out of fear you did not participate in?
Without your dreams you're a soulless ghost,
like a concaved snake's skin.

If only you're bold enough to walk your own path,
alienated and without an established map.
You will soon realize that your passion's just waiting,
for your courage to close the gap.
I came to realize that in our society less people are brave enough to dream and follow their passions. No one should be judged by his ability to dream of what he/she can be. No one should have to feel ashamed to openly express what you are passionate about. It is courageous and commendable to pursue your goals.
Never forget you can be whatever you want if only you believe in yourself!
She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.
You
There's this person in my mind, I always knew I loved
A face I could not see, a voice I could not hear
Love is all I felt, my heart this person knew
A hand that fit in mine, as if it had been gloved
Love I finally found, since I met my dear
This person in my mind, and it was always you
a man of letters
who pens
upon
trivial matters in convivial inns
where his life is spent
almost invariably
in tatters       ..
born in the artic snow
she chromed
her heart
in steel

flames could
not
touch that heart

always a half a step ahead
sure
a few stumbles
but never a fall

and moonlight is just
a heartache in disquise

till one day
leaning out a car window
a scar upon his cheek
and the luck of the draw

was the jack of hearts

and the queen of diamonds
had
never met
anyone
quite like

the jack

of hearts,

black-haired blue-eyed
her beauty inspired
stupid men
to commit foolish acts

and as he smiled
the queen of diamonds
thought she had

the jack of hearts,

blue sky shimmering
in her eyes

jack became
the brightness
of her day

and the jack of hearts
saw a flame
flickering in her eyes
that he had never seen
in any women's eyes
before ...
                
               act. 2

... a strange destiny
was unraveling
and one long poker hand
was over
and the snowflakes came
down like ashes
under the street light

and then
the jack of hearts
walked away

a pale spirit fleeing
a graveyard
into the wall of night

and the queen of diamonds
cried

the sea into sky

with eyes
like twilight
waiting

to eat away the day
Fold here
and fold again.
So that the meal made last night
touches a picture of her laughing
lips as red as dark wine,
that you drank alone with unlit candles.

fold again,
add in the paper cut outs from the fridge.
Your face in black and white,
not smiling for the photographers camera-
creased up
corner to corner with a crayon drawing of a yellow sun
and green lollipop trees.

fold again,
and its a boat or hat made from newspaper memories
for a little boy to wear down the lane to the bus stop.
And that is folded up again so the daily path
falls under a breakup and absent parents
with band posters on the wall and keep out signs on the door
all shadowing the empty side of the bed.

fold
and fold again till its a card board box
filled to the brim with you.

fold again to make a lid,
fold till it fits in one hand.
fold in with gossamer and silk
and you sneak it to the one you love...

but she cant read you lines
can't follow your folds to unwrap the inside,
no one can.
The box gets dropped and set aside.

and so you fold and fold again.
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