Nothing truly never ends or begins. It just keeps on going forever..
You are the continuation of someone somewhere..
And you will be the continuation for someone somewhere..
No matter how you look at it..
You are a ripple that will wave across the eternal flow of time..

She was in love
With old books.
She was in love with
The way they smelled
As she flipped the pages
And felt the air hit her face.
She was in love with
The rough texture
Of the paper worn over time.
She was in love with
The yellowed tint of the pages
And the crumple of water spots.
She was in love with
The broken and tattered
Binding that crinkled
When you touched it.
But most of all,
She was in love with
The stories that not only
The words written in them held
But the stories behind each
Coffee stain and torn corner.
The idea that this book
Had connected with
So many other people
Enchanted her,
And she wondered if
Maybe she wasn't as
Strange and odd
As people told her.
And she thought that just
Maybe she wasn't as
Alone as she felt.

"My Lord, why is there only one set of footprints?"

"Because, my child, sand people always walk in single file to hide their numbers."

But I was awake then,

wasn't I?

you see, you don't think I remember.
But I do.

there was sunlight-

the kind of sunlight
that filters through
inescapable particles of dust, no matter
how much
I hate
to be able to see myself breathing them in.
the kind of sunlight
that absolutely glares
up off of the oil
on the asphalt
in the evenings
and blinds you hysterically.
the kind of sunlight
that swiftly stills
your rattling skeleton
and begs you to stare
"But mother, only for a minute..."
the kind of sunlight
that makes me remember
my own unanswerable questions
about my subtle deterioration
my inevitable decline
into this utter chaos
that is myself.

and through this degradation, this decomposition, I realize
that I can't help but wonder:

when did these superfluous trees take root?

where were you when the first seed of doubt landed on the surface of my parched, withering mind?

and, my God, why on Earth did you let it rain?

A little girl, lonely and lost, draws pictures in the sand
Suddenly, a shadow of a little boy falls across her hand
His awkward smile brings him to her
His gentle words weld together
Until they draw in the sand, side by side
Laughing and smiling with care and with pride

But the girl is still lonely, the girl is still lost
The price of her heart comes with a cost
A single confession, on a white screen
Such a thing she could never have foreseen

The little girl tells a tale of sadness and woe
The little boy sits and listens to her lowest low
And then he has his own tale to tell
Of how an angel almost fell

A not-so-little girl, lonely and lost, draws pictures in the sand
Next to a not-so-little boy, with a quivering hand
The hand she takes and folds into her own
At last, she knows, she is not alone

Just because I might click like on your poem.
Does not always mean that I agree with you.
Sometimes seeing just how gifted that you are.
Shall be the very reason that I click like to your poem.
I do appreciate all of you even though we may disagree.
For Love is a powerful gift, it can draw two totally different people.
Into a friendship that may throughout their life here.
So I just want to say that I appreciate each of you here.
Love you with Christ Unconditional Mighty Love.