so many people
each one making their way about
opening worlds within
bound covers
filled with possibilities
and the words flew off pages
like young birds
into minds that will grow wings
and for a time will leave
the nest of everydayness
sometimes
as the book is closed
the still dizzying effect
of its power
has left with the reader
as they find their way out
of the labyrinth of pages

Breathe.

Settle yourself.

Try to understand.

We were meant to love.

And if we can not love, then we were meant to try to love.

And failing that we were made to breathe.

And try again.



-Sean Critchfield

When the life inside of me begins to wither
like the leaves on winter trees,
And my breath begins to slow,
I'll use the very lasts gasps to say
how I get high to the smell of rain,
And that sunflowers
make me smile so naturally.
I'll say how I like the time spent alone,
And the nights I can't seem to find sleep.
I'll talk of the chills that overcome my body
when crashing waves reach my feet,
And of the beautiful ryhmes
always running through my head.
I'll reveal how I'm secretly drawn to the cold,
And how summer is my favorite season.
I'll tell them how the woods call my name
as I walk by,
I need their mystery.
And with my final bit of life,
I'll say how above all,
I'm happiest when I'm dancing.