The shovel burst through the foreboding soil with a thud.

A powerful hand was gripped around the handle. Farther up the arm connected to the hand, was a man.
He stood at a towering 6'4"
Everything about him said mean,
Except for the tear on his cheek,
And the whimper of his eyes.

The shovel went down, and soil came up. This happened again and again for a very long time. His pace was slow, but only because he couldn't bare to finish.

Eventually enough soil was above ground. And he knew the time had come.

One more solemn tear fell accross his cheek as he lowered his son's limp body into the ground.

Thoughts rushed through his head, but he ignored them. It was all too much.
He had made the choice to pay rent instead of buy a casket and it was eating him alive, but it was too late now.

He began to shovel dirt back into the hole. Faster this time. He held less power though. His hands shook, his body trembled, and his soul cried as he saw his son for the last time.

Tonight there are no deep thoughts floating through the room.
No wishful words wandering woesomely in my brain.
Just dreams of sleep.
Visions of a light darkness.
Not the evil but the peaceful.
So tonight sleep will come,
Instead of thoughts,
And this
Is
Good.

You love what you love.
When you want to love it.
For as long as you want to love it.
You are who you are.
You are forever unique.
You are literally a miracle.
This is beautiful.
You are free to love.
Free to be you.
Most are normal,
But some are lucky.
Some of us get to be weird.
And sometimes it's hard to be weird,
Normal people don't get it.
Why poetry can raise the hair on your neck,
Why a math problem makes you smile,
Why the little moments in life str the biggest.
And even though most people think weird people are well weird,
They are wrong,
Weird is lovey.
And weirdness is spreading,
Because being weird is a blessing,

Before the sun falls past the horizon
and the moon smiles at us with all it can manage. I want to make sure that I won't forget your face in the dark.

I want to make sure that I won't lose you in the dark or if I do that come sunrise we will find each other, tired from a long night of search.

I want to make sure that you love me with everything that I love you with, and that we will hold hands through the dark, shielded by our love, safe to lay down and stare at the stars in awe.

Pistol dreams.
Exaggerated hopes.
Intense ideas of love, furious desires for the stars to be in reach.

Teenage ideals. Everything is deep,
Or can be.
An elephant carries a heavy load but can hold it easier than anything else.
Deep? Shallow? Dumb?
Depends on who is asked.

The future is screaming,
Rolling forward like a train at unimaginable speeds,
Meanwhile I am writing,
Thinking of things,
That won't heal the sick,
Or feed the hungry.

However,
It seems lifechanging,
When the words flow right,
Or throw hope and love together in some new way.

But are they actually?

Happiness is illusive,
And it lies within the heart.
Now some hearts fill quickly, but drain quickly too,
Others take time to fill, but they keep in what they have earned.
Mine seems to be the former.
Filling from friendly words,
And emptying an hour later over the shallowest matter.

This being said it is not impossible to be happy, many people live happy lives

And I believe the key is to accept it all.
To live life with love.
To not search for what could make you happy, but rather your heart which will make you happy.
Happiness is the only quest in which the goal can be found at the beginning.

There is an unthinkable amount of in which we will never meet, or even lay eyes on.

These people are doctors,musicians, postal workers, chefs, poets, humans.
And they may have the kindest hearts,
The brightest eyes, and the warmest smile, but we will never know them.

I may never meet anyone who reads this. In fact I probably won't have the pleasure, the odds are against it.

However, here's to you! Everyone. All those who I will never see or know it love.