When I sleep
a wind blows
over strange lands
I don't know
and I feel like a lamp
a stranger is holding up
looking for a way
through a dark field
I will walk through.

I gaze at your picture
from across the room
and try to remember
the sound of your voice
these empty halls
once filled
with your laughter
now sit vacant
empty and abandoned
just like my heart

Is there a way
to play the game of love?
Are there tricks
to treat it differently?

Is there a way
to be unbroken?
Can I defy gravity
to not fall so easily?

Is there a way
to play it safe?
Is there a way to guard
these feelings of mine forever?

Is there a way to love
without hurting?
Is there a way to move on
without crying?

Our love is dead

It is gone to the ages

I lie alone bed

Now my feelings are in cages


What we had is lost

It lies within the ground

Only I know the cost

But you I'm glad I found.

Some are laughing, some are weeping;
She is sleeping, only sleeping.
Round her rest wild flowers are creeping;
There the wind is heaping, heaping
Sweetest sweets of Summer's keeping,
By the cornfields ripe for reaping.

There are lilies, and there blushes
The deep rose, and there the thrushes
Sing till latest sunlight flushes
In the west; a fresh wind brushes
Through the leaves while evening hushes.

There by day the lark is singing
And the grass and weeds are springing:
There by night the bat is winging;
There forever winds are bringing
Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing.

Night and morning, noon and even,
Their sound fills her dreams with Heaven:
The long strife at length is striven:
Till her grave-bands shall be riven
Such is the good portion given
To her soul at rest and shriven.

By Arcassin Burnham

Wake up from the dead like
The crow on a Sunday morning
Piercing it's eyes on Monday's newspaper,
Making sure the world sees a different path,
Wouldn't feel like this if I had a laugh,
Piecing together what I can to find a day
Without pain,
You have a better way of seeing things,
But we're not the same,
I try the highs and lows for myself,
But nothing commences,
No change,
No sign of self worth,
Like I was made in a test tube frozen
In a block of ice,
I'm nothing more than a discovery in my own image,
For that I shouldn't long to exist,
I should clear,
I should erase,
I should fade.

[NEW]
Scientists know more about the
                 moon
           than the ocean.

[WAXING CRESCENT]
Light can only dive 200 meters
            down into the ocean.  Below it,
the “Midnight Zone” glows in the dark.  
(By standing in your shadow,
I am hoping to become
                                         bioluminescent.)

[FIRST QUARTER]
Life has a tendency to thrive in hostile environments.  
                                                 ­                        For this reason, Jupiter’s moon,
                                                           ­              Europa, may be able to support
                                                                ­         life within the global ocean of
                                                              ­           liquid water that is hidden
                                                          ­               beneath the ice at its surface.
(This is why I am able to bloom in the dark.)

[WAXING GIBBOUS]
The ocean bows to no one but the moon.  Turn
off the lights.  Turn up the stars.  Low tide wants to
fold back inside itself and lap against the
                             shores of the Sea of Tranquility.  
High tide just wants to be noticed.

[FULL]
But a heated black body sunspot,
                (isolated from the rest
                of the photosphere),
still shines brighter than the moon.  Wolves should
be howling at the sun instead.

I'm not sure who or what I'm supposed to become.
Some believe they have it all made.
Others already succumb
to the pressures of life.

Too many people are concerned with vanity.
I've searched great distances to find who I am.
The fiery passion of wanderlust drives me to the peak of insanity,
could this all be a scam?

Where does it all stop?
Will it ever?
Am I made to just stand in the backdrop?
Or shall I go on living forever.