I want to be new,
the refreshing deep breath,
that welcomes you through the doors,
to a world unknown.
I want to be to the start of the evolution,
I want to be the speck in space,
that brings a new race.

I want to be the reason,
and I want to be the cause.
I want to be free,
and find all that's been lost.

I dream to be the dream.
I cling to bringing the "ahh."
I dance and jump to reveal
               the unexpected thrill.

To those who hate us,
and don't know why.
To those who love us,
and try not to cry~

Given a seal,
molded in fate.
Not infinite.
So cruel, but unchanging.

It is not simply a seal
which will bring sorrow,
but all same the letter.
The letter of whom.
The letter of when,
where,
what,
why.
Assimilating to feel as if a scroll,
when set in rewind.
Molded in thus fate.
Fate is not the seal,
but the mold to which create.
Fate being start.
Fate is not the end,
but the beginning.
What you make of the beginning,
is solely yours to make,
while it will be the final impression,
upon the seal.
Upon the letter
unchanged,
but not unchangeable.
And done away,
or kept by side,
to live on as the end of ending.

In space we seem weightless.
Hidden by face.
A reflection of inside,
who we are
when we fall.

Space is kind,
but space is cruel.
Honoring the solitude,
while grasping to never fly nor fall.

An angel without the wings,
hovering over the sky.
Not falling.
Not floating.
Just being..
there.

Repetition reminding,
we exist nowhere.

Leaving fear,
and apathy,
seen in distance,
and serenity.

Pleasure overflowing to the ants,
deep,
deep,
in the empty of the stars,
who cannot see but the dull,
of eternity surround.

Breathing slow,
for the unanswered questions,
and the unquestioned answers,
that create a star so bright.
Being a instrument of the extraterrestrial night.
Lined perfect,
to ***** the blindness in elevation,
bid the truth of all whom felt the sensation.
Springing from these hands,
possible-
a true revelation?

I was gone for a long time now,
stuck in a hole.
It was all pitch dark,
seeping unknown evil.
But I crawled back home,
under the flooding smoke.
I destroyed the creatures,
though my lightsaber broke.
Holding tight to it's handle.
In my hand,
the smell of iron,
may last forever.
And the pictures
that led crispy burnt bits to fall here,
were burned in the fire,
of my will,
strength;
desire.
I am not who I was,
but I am fresh.
like new car,
and my brain has been washed.
It's not bad.
It's better.
I'm glad,
and I will never
ever
fall
so deep
again.
I will never
ever
walk away
in the end.

Lamoon smiles like the sun.
Call me home,
before dinner lamoon.
Sweet lamoon making no sense,
silly lamoon says she can't dance.
Lamoon my hands get cold,
and so do yours.
Lamoon, glimmer on my dear.
Lovely lamoon,
white as a flower.
Scent like a ballroom.
Always has the answer, lamoon.
Lamoon
with grace to skip along stars.
Shoes in hand,
and the trickles of hope falling on us.
Lamoon
shine bright on.
Lamoon,
you're your own song.
A hymn.
A cord.
La
Lamoon,
gleam netted eyes,
and rose hugged lips.
La
Lamoon
free and close.
La
Lamoon,
making me feel like I've seen a ghost.
Taking breath and stealing hearts.
La
Lamoon
enchanting echos chant,
"La,
Lamoon!"
I see her in the horizon,
watering the road.
She plants me in the ground and tells me to grow.
Pouring her nectar over me,
and running the street so free.
La
Lamoon
singing a wonder so happy.

A book of my thoughts,
careful gestures,
and randomized scribbles.
An assortment of "I don't know"s
and question marks.
Rhetorically, why do I write in this?
Why do I mention this book which keeps me still?
Why ever would 'why' be my ever waking thrill?
Why not try, writing a book dedicated to 'why'?
You'll be amazed at what you don't know.
Why is..
Why me..
Why you..
Why do..
Lovely friends,
I see you now,
because I've asked why and how
and how
could I not see,
until I asked why you were wanting me to be free,
leaving me be?
Lovely friends,
I've opened mind,
opened hands.
Why not write 'why'?
The questions do not torment,
they simply fly away,
replaced with clarity:
you didn't know. I didn't know. We don't always know.
Why are we so wrong?
Why are we so right?
Why do we hate day?
Why do we love night?
Why were we so weak?
Why were we so strong?
Why not move along?
Why is a book binding you to life,
bind you to hope,
helping people strive?
Why, a book like mine is one with a streaming hook.
Why do I love my why book?

Little child, be not afraid
The rain pounds harsh against the glass
Like an unwanted stranger
There is no danger
I am here tonight

Little child
Be not afraid
Though thunder explodes
And lightning flash
Illuminates your tearstained face
I am here tonight

And someday you'll know
That nature is so
This same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land
And forests and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you see
In the morning

Little child
Be not afraid
The storm clouds mask your beloved moon
And its candlelight beams
Still keep pleasant dreams
I am here tonight

Little child
Be not afraid
The wind makes creatures of our trees
And the branches to hands
They're not real, understand
And I am here tonight

And someday you'll know
That nature is so
This same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land
And forest and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you see
In the morning

For you know, once even I
Was a little child
And I was afraid
But a gentle someone always came
To dry all my tears
Trade sweet sleep the fears
And to give a kiss goodnight

Well, now I am grown
And these years have shown
Rain's a part of how life goes
But it's dark and it's late
So I'll hold you and wait
'til your frightened eyes do close

And I hope that you'll know
That nature is so
This same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land
And forests and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you see
In the morning

Everything's fine in the morning
The rain will be gone in the morning
But I'll still be here in the morning