Those precious little moments,
Where hearts like ours could mend,
When love was all we lived for,
And dreams could never end.

Each precious little moment,
The hopes we held inside,
The good and bad encountered,
All taken in our stride.

Those precious little moments,
When we walked hand in hand,
No longer to be shared by us,
Despite all that we’d planned.

Each precious little moment,
Wrapped in each others arms,
A safely now long gone to me,
Sat here lost in my qualms.

Those precious little moments,
Where love still found a way,
Shared by our souls forever,
No matter what we say.

Each precious little moment,
We never should regret,
The time we had was special,
I will not soon forget.

I still remember you young,
filling tap water into your glass,
watering the orchids in the living room.

That day your gran taught you,
about over-watering your plants,
and under-watering too;

While Elvis's LP played on the record player,
his voice singing about the bellhop's tears,
and the desk clerk dressed in black.

Last night I saw you in a shop window,
looking as if you spilt too much colour
and you had over-watered your plants anew.

In the corner of lonely street,
the building stood and blinked,
down in Heartbreak Hotel we meet.

A shooting star
my whole existence is
I used to believe that I am a new human
in your colourful life
a shooting star star
falling on the open field of hopes
of your dreams
I am falling now
with each and every  breath of yours
with every sun that rises
with every sun that dies
I am that shooting star
you believed in
but
I can't make your wish come true
I will just make myself true
even though
I don't shine in your Universe
even though
I am just the dying star
you have stepped on
on a lonely night
when the moon was shining
and the night on your heart
was covered with clouds.

I am the shooting star
falling
dreaming
of your eyes
of your smile.

In silence, I know
I am the only shooting star
with a destiny of its own.

A star who doesn't smile
nor falls
A star who just leaves
like the smoke of your cigarette
in the wind.

I am the shooting star star
you didn't see
the one who loves you
and you did not
believe.

It was a marathon race of
timeline. The days are bound and shot.
How do I come to you to express
my grief of the country
in tumult!

In shouting and screaming,
there was no magic wand to invoke
peace. Your mouth opens
and shuts like the shell valves. The
scollops― words, swim in
sea of burials.

The seriality was unconscionable.
It falls short of a stroke.
The blood splits. A riot erupts
to wet the lips of curved razor.
The sun retreats, to let
the stars find their sky.

Burn.
Step onto the embers of my
Secret weaknesses and
Impersonate the
Sword of Michael.

This longing for Valhalla
Won't see me alive much
Longer.
Take me to the nearest battle.
Let me die slaying a terrorist

Or intending ******.
Or should I pray to gods of a more
Peaceful nature than
Odin?
Love and let live.

Nah, this is in my Norwegian
Bones.
I'll die wielding blade.
I'll die laughing, opened up and
Spilling.

I'll "not go gentle into that good
Night."
So burn.
Be bonfire to my innermost of
Darknesses.

There are shadows there that
Demand chasing.
Make me proud to be
Midgardian.
Burst into flames and remind me:

Sticks and stones are feathers.
Buddha and Baldr.
Enlightenment and love. Well,
I'd rather be a warrior in a church
Than a priest in a battle.

Odin's one good eye
Is mine.
The other weeps for the weak.
May they find
Comfort in the daylight,

While us
Others sharpen our
Weathered hearts
In the cold, uncertain night we
Belong to, like water to snow.