There comes a moment when you want to write about something so beautiful
That it refuses to be transcribed into ink, and you're stuck with only memory

When I go I will go far
I'll follow the sun from the riverbed of my childhood home
To places where the mountains hold no snow
I will sing my freedom song to the birds along the road
I'll braid sweetgrass through my hair
Cup my hands around the moonbeams
And sleep out in the air
When I go I will be
The stars in my own eyes
Wool blankets, blue crickets, battered books, tall trees
I will be strong legs and bitter tea
The climbing of the mountain for the diving to the spring
I will be art out on a blanket and poetry sold for free
Abandoned cabins and agates on the beach
Cold water in the morning, apples eaten to the core
I will be anywhere I need
I will be everything I see, and then a little bit more
When I go, I will be
The sun in my own eyes, the sand beneath my feet
The ocean in a cup, for it takes salt to make me clean
I'll be the moss on every tree, a moving prayer on folded knees
Whispering bliss, singing praise, thank you for this day
Thank you for the sun, my heart, the sea
When I go, I will go free

There are too many songs
written about love.
What about putting ourselves first
and caring about security?
Can one be happy without a great
significant other?
Sure love is great.
I like the songs that are about
all the great complications.
Music beats any unpleasant noise.
The notes and lyrics beat any
whining.
Feelings are ignored since there is
too much and too many people to
deal with.
Listen to the music.
Not every message will be right for all.
Write your own music.
Express your feelings no matter the lack of common
share.
To the alternative acoustic who writes about their
newborn child.
For the rapper writing about the children in the neighborhood without a chance.
The opera singer who sings for when we let go.
The pop star who expresses the joy of being
single again.
And how about the rock star honoring their new electric guitar.
So many feelings,
so many meanings.
Forget the right and wrong.
Just listen, write, and feel.

They ask me why I spend most of my time sleeping,
it’s because it’s in my dreams where I get to see you,
it’s the only place where you’re mine and I’m yours
and nothing else seems to matter.
It’s the closest thing we have to forever.