Those who look for sunlight in the darkness of night
Need only to look up and see the sea of stars

We create worlds for the people we love.
Little un-burstable spaces of infinite time, those little one seconds that last days longer
Lost symbols of nothing before but now mean everything
Places only your world of two have seen before
Heavens made for picture frames to be locked away in album frames always treasured by the bliss retained
Dreams of long lost sights but stilled reached towards like green lights
We perfect these corny little alcoves of space just to remember how important it is to hold love and hold our loves to us.

I want to meet a psychological doctor who is Peter Pan
A teacher who is like Bill from the Perks of Being a Wallflower or that teacher that accepts Holden Caulfield into his house
Or that pilot from the Little Prince
I'll even take Dean Moriarty.
I want to be able to create an endless list of people who gave others hope but this is seriously the only ones I can think of.
I want to know an adult who has hope.
Not someone who is happy or someone who is blissfully ignorant of everything, meaning pain, suffering, harsh life, yaada yada, going on around them
I want to know one adult who has lived through cynicism and can say they know what hope is.
Just one adult to say hope still exists or just one action to prove it still exists
And I will gladly grow up without a second of hesitation if just one looks me in the eyes and says you will always have hope.

419

We grow accustomed to the Dark—
When light is put away—
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye—

A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night—
Then—fit our Vision to the Dark—
And meet the Road—*****—

And so of larger—Darkness—
Those Evenings of the Brain—
When not a Moon disclose a sign—
Or Star—come out—within—

The Bravest—***** a little—
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead—
But as they learn to see—

Either the Darkness alters—
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight—
And Life steps almost straight.

1764

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
  The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—
  That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
  That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
  And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
  As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
  So dangerously near.

I thought I had something to say.
To endlessly express with nothing thats everything
I felt limitations were impossible
I wanted someone to hear what I was saying, even if they were just whispers.
Cause I lost the words I needed to hear since I lost all the words everyone wanted to hear
Now maybe I'll disapear
Found my something to say

Just is a restraining word.
I'm just a person- said Da Vinci and Einstein
I'm just a place- said the Eiffel Tower or Great Wall
They're just other things that time has created.
If you lose the just you start to define what it is you are.
I'm a place or a person.
You no longer fit to one thing or creation.
You get to pick who you become when you lose the justs in life.

you're not friends with the insiders who won't let the outsiders in.
You make friends with those who let you in.