I do not mean you as a metaphorical you, however "you" as in an undoubtable "you".
"You" may not see the panes it break. When "you" say my name my heart does wince with sweet, sweet soliloquy. When you hark my name, I turn away from the audience of strangers, and direct my speech unwavering toward "you". Now "you", with unwavering focus, hear my words back, ringing in "your" ear. "You" are the one. "You" my new-soul does love to hear speak. In silence "you" are a beautiful picture: with "your" hair long and brown, "your" eyes glowing green, "your" lips like pillows for my lips to dream. And when my dreams do meet their reality, "you" will fill my soul with sweet, sweet music.
Syllables leep and frolic off "your" tongue as children do play, in adolescent beauty and wonderment, in the fields of sping-time. They seem to adhere to "your" mind in both articulation and in reckless abandonment; they flow from "your" mouth like sweet, sweet sound in waves unbroken by thought (though I know "you" think before "you" speak).
Other me's may not hear the sounds that I do when "you" laugh, and giggle, and emote your beliefs. They may not believe me when I say I hear, no feel, "you", but if they would open their hearts, no minds, to true beauty I believe that they would, too, feel. Now I mean feel as in the most unbridled sense the senses can bare.
"Your" voice pangs on the strings of my heart's neck, the curvature of my being. It, "your" voice, still plays fluently in the drums of my ears; like a beautiful symphony "your" ways of speech. "Your" patterns they flow like notes on a staph. I will never know another human who can, through speech, evoke such emotion from I as "you".
I would give everything I owned to hear "your" voice play for hours, days, months, years; until "your" voice grew outdated and changed with the seasons. However, "your" voice will never grow outdated or change to me. It, "your" voice, will remain as beautiful as it was in its prime in my ears. Just to hear "your" chords play my name once more I would give it all. My heart longs to feel "you" again.

There once was who a Man who fell into a Cave,
and although it was dark, he tried to be brave.
With no light which to guide him, and fear right beside him,
he tried to get out but his hopes were in vain.
Further into darkness this man would then wonder;
no knowledge that all of his efforts would plunder.
As the passage grew tighter, he wished to retire,
but brought forth all the courage his heart could then muster.
A roaring of rapids he heard up ahead;
still fighting the fight yet succumbing to dread.
Then the tunnel grew wider, his worry seemed lighter,
as he dreamed that he'd one day return to his bed.
As he climbed from the end of this funneling hole,
and stepped further in darkness he fell to below.
What felt like forever, was the length of a feather,
now this man had to wade in a water so cold.
He swam although blind, first left and then right,
then down and back up he tried with his might.
He felt trapped in a world, with no diamonds, nor pearls
till he scoured the wall and found a pinhole of light.
This man of great strength then took one last dive,
and low-and-behold a new passage did find.
He followed it through, away from this pool,
and came up in another yet barely alive.
He was freezing, and shaking, his head it was aching
from fright and unknown during this undertaking.
Yet this brand new room, was filled with a jewel;
a jewel of which this man had no mistaking.
It was filled with light of the same glorious day,
a hole in this cavern overhead did lay.
He tried climbing the wall, only down did he fall,
but this did not stop him or keep him at bay.
He tried once again to still make it out;
climbing and jumping, and thrusting, about.
Till he reached the top, but still did not stop,
until he lay on the grass, no longer with doubt.
The warmth of the sun encircled his body.
His soul intact, yet his head was still foggy.
Exhausted, befuddled, arrested, and muddled;
he began to walk back yet fell into a copy.
Of the same devilish cave he had once been,
and it was up to him, only him, to climb back out again.

Ever had an inkling, yet nowhere to begin?
Ever lay awake thinking things, ponderings in your head?
Ever fiddle and fidget and wonder and wain?
Ever feel the need to abound, not to behave?
Ever see a sight so wondrous and rare?
Ever want something you just couldn't place there?
Ever know the unknown?
Ever drove just to drove?
Ever ran down a street even though it a cove?
These are some things not ever so ratchet,
There is the itch, now go forth and scratch it.

It is until I
stopped searching that I found you.
Perchance, should we move?

I thought this new place would be strange, stopping in for the night - sleeping in a bed countless individuals have lain, had ***, cried (even maybe about the ***) - then packing and leaving in the sunrise of a new day.
So I walked to a bar next door to eat and drink some whiskey
       Whiskey isn't good on rough thoughts by the way...
When what does my eye see? A stranger, sitting directly across the bar, feeling the exact same as me. I would never be able to explain how I knew, it was simply a feeling I guess.
So I approached with caution, my version of suave, and said "hey miss can I buy you another?"
She replied with a "no" she was already with someone and I said I didn't mind I wasn't looking for a *****-call or anything of the sort, just some people to laugh with, I'm simply passing through town and simply passing the time.
She said "okay, come on, sit down".
We got to talking, and lo-and-behold, laughing. Minutes turned into an hour and no one else had approached her, I had completely forgotten she was waiting for another. And I believe so did she.
I finished my food and paid for her drink, a cosmopolitan, and I polished off a few more whiskeys, straight up no rocks.
Good whiskey should never be watered down, and I always shoot scotch.
As the night grew and grew she became flirtatious and asked if she could come back to my room for a night cap or a few. To which I replied, "wait, weren't you waiting for someone, like, **** it's been three hours ago, what happened who was it?"
She said it was her brother then pointed to a man across the bar with his friends who waved and I waved in reply.
She said to me, "come on he doesn't mind".
I thought it was strange, even for me, so I said, "I'm sorry miss I told you I wasn't looking for a *****-call, just someone to laugh with."
She understood then downed her cosmo, gesturing to buy her another; and I did. And another. And another for me.
Finally, against my own will, I had to leave (I really was tired after driving all day and knew I had to wake early and do it all over again).
We bid each other a-do and I left, no names just a memory we could both enjoy.
I walked back to my room and crashed into bed, then wanted a cigarette so I packed a fresh pack and went out back to burn a few down.
When what do I see? The same beautiful stranger, I believed searching for me, burning a few down herself. I said "hey?" in surprise, to which she responded with an elegant hi.
I asked if she had come to see me, she replied, "no, I'm just in a New city for the Night, staying at this hotel, visiting my brother while on my way back to college, I'm 202."
I was 203.
I thought it was simply too good to be true so I let her know.
Then she came to my room and we watched some TV, now as she in her room, and I next door, my mind can't help but wonder...
Should I go knock? On her door? Or on the wall in between?
Should I let her know that it's fate? Does she too, know?
I wonder...
What's her name? What's her sign? Where's she from? Where does she go to school?
I wonder all these things, but I'm satisfied because we lived in the present and proved we were, both, still alive - in a new city, just for the night.
So instead of asking her these things, or tapping on her door, I'm writing it down so I know I won't forget her. And if I ever need to remember a time I looked for something other than what was easily available, and over came all temptation, and shared a beautiful experience with another person who I know feels the same; I can come back here and remember all over again.

For forty days and forty nights I roam a vagrant sea
with no light to guide a man to shore, no beacon summoning.
I see no time: no days, nor months; only moments reckoning
in silence for the one who comes to end my suffering.
On boards of plank, washed red with ***,
that glisten in the morning sun; I lie awake, and await the one
who frees me of my mortal bond.

I promised I would soon return, and yet I yearn, remaining true.
'Cause forty days turn forty years and now my blood runs blue.

Hello my love, we meet again
beneath the trees we once had been.
A thought, a promise, now left to rot;
Your love, a thought, i've always sought.
Two souls apart we'll always wonder
until the day we find one another.
By the lakeside, an artificial sea,
my only lover i'll always know we.
A high price to pay, that of forgiveness.
You leave me here, my only witness.
To the pain I felt, no one will know
because the smile I fake is the thing that shows.
In a plain, with wheat so grown,
the wind it waves has always shown.
The path to you is here and there
growing farther still my heart lay bare.
A one to know, to hold, to love,
the northern star will guide me near.
To land, a-**, i'll always yell,
you are always the shore for my ship to sail.
If I move far away it won't be for her,
it will be to ease my mind, my gold and my myrrh.
For the chance you may travel miles to see me,
Instead of across state, i'll be by the sea.
You can see your best friend, your lover, your man
you can just look from a mountain and see where I stand.
It's a place that I've loved of great history and passion,
my love i'll abide with great silence and ration.
It's a city where I can do great things,
not a prima ballerina me it brings,
it's because I'd be closer to that which I love.
And no longer have to look to the stars above.
Just to wonder if you're staring back at them too;
you'll always be my baby, and i'll always stay true.
We may **** in the lack of because physicality one needs,
but please do not dwell on that which proceeds.
I do not dwell on that which has been,
with you and a man you once called a friend.
I only will live in the time that we have,
and I'll always be here to ease the caution you have.
You may move across state, and start your life so a-new,
but I'll remain chasing you, my soul filled with you.

I check and I counter, then raise in a boast
for the love of a most significant host. I'm all in,
and I always will be for you
I raise poker chips worth many a penny to few.
Some ask why I bet,
but I do not fret,
for you they are just a gamble a plenty.
For what is worth, and what does mean money?
So I spend and I try and I wonder what comes,
by betting all mine that is under the sun.
Well to be honest, it is to double
that which I have,
no trouble just self, if you give me yours i'll truly know wealth.
So I check, then I counter, and then I will raise
to gain the house's adornment and praise.

Frantically flailing in broken facades;
these trials have been torture. I'm stuck in my ways,
and while I sit here and wallow, these choices I've made
will all come back to haunt me one of these days.

Yes, one of these days I will see what I've done,
and make peace with the problems I've caused everyone.
I would scream from the mountains, fly into the sun,
just to shed from my shoulders this weight of a ton.

When I sleep, when I dream, it is all that I see.
When I wake, and I wander, my melancholy
seems to leak in these streets beneath feet proud and free
pulling those who would touch it down into the sea.

Yes, into the sea, and down with the ship.
I'm sinking, and downing, with each tiny drip
of my blood to the floor. This eternal torment,
beckons beauty and lyric from the purse of my lips.

Would you care to be me? If you really could choose,
would you be the same with the losses I lose?
It's a simple reminder that pairs come in twos,
and no matter the feeling, or what may ensue,
there is someone out there to start your life anew,

and no one is better off being you, than you.

On the third of November in '73, a stranger found his way to my door. He had traveled many miles: the shore out of site, his home but a distant memory. Through wheezing and tears, and a gleam in his eye, his shaking hand reached towards me gripping tightly to a letter.

"This… This is for you," he said still trying to catch his breath. "I'm so sorry, I read a line and knew it not my place," he continued, "please forgive me."

No envelope, no mailing address, no return. The smell of brine shot from the damp, yellow paper. Blue lines running towards black, water-colored ink. I reached towards him, without saying a word, and brought him inside for water. He had traveled far.

We sat down in the kitchen and I began to read:

"I have been away for what feels to be quite some time: admittedly I have lost track. My mind burns with strife. Should I just give up? Should I hold out hope? I try every day to remind myself the date. 'May 27th, 1965, is the day it began. September 16th is my birthday, and I am now 28. The current date is April 11th, 1971.' This is the date I am writing you this letter. I need you to know that I have not forgotten you. I have not let this existence strip you from me.

I still remember the way you held my hand so awkwardly in the grocery store. The way your smile, that time we drove to the Grand Canyon, made getting lost for two days worth while. We didn't even see the **** canyon, but that didn't matter. I remember the feeling I got deep in my stomach when I was on your arm. The way you were proud to show me off and the way I was proud to simply be in your light. I can taste the dinners you would cook me, and your breath at night, how it tasted like our favorite scotch. When I close my eyes, I hear your voice reading me passages from Tesla's diaries, because you knew it put me to sleep.

I can feel your warmth in this cold, desolate room, keeping me safe and watching over me. The sun breaks through a crack in the wall. I press my face against its rays and imagine them as your eyes, beaming down on me in the morning while I'm nuzzled on your shoulder.

I feed the birds crumbs of stale bread that fall off the rolls they bring me, and let their songs shower me with happiness.

I do not know where I am, but the thought of you has kept me strong. Please do not despair. I will always be with you. I will always be in your heart, as you are in mine. And I pray to whatever God is out there, that when this ordeal is over, I can watch as you live out your days in our home. My love, I need this letter to find you. Maybe the bird has heard my plea.

I will wait for you on the other side of this life. For I know I have many more with you.

Yours always, never failing;
Lenore."

It had been over eight years since I last saw my wife. We had stopped for gas ten miles outside Carlsbad. She had gone in to get cigarettes and a 40oz grape slushy (her favorite). And I...I had taken my eyes off of her for simply a few seconds to check the nozzle and…

I began to weep uncontrollably. For years I knew she was still alive, I knew when no one else would believe. I felt her holding on. I too, looked at the sun and felt as though she was looking down at me. My dreams were ransacked with memories of that failed Canyon trip, yet every morning I awoke with the largest smile on my face, simply from remembering her.

The feeling went away in the summer of last year, just months after she had apparently written me. My tears mixed with the paper, causing the ink to run even more, creating a gray blend where my tears, the ocean, and her love collided.

The stranger made his way to the bar-cart and grabbed the scotch. He poured me a double and made himself a water while I thanked this kind stranger profusely for allowing me such closure.

He had not spoken as I read. He had not spoken as I wept. He simply offered his hand on my shoulder for comfort, and a glass of scotch for remembrance.

As I took another sip from my glass my vision fogged and the room it span. This stranger I had thought so kind was standing behind me with both hands now on my shoulder, pressing down hard. Through my tears and confusion I managed to question:

"What did you do to her? What did you do with my Lenore? How did you find me? What is…" Every word growing weaker and weaker with age. And through the haze I heard him whisper, his voice different than before,

"A little birdie told me…"

And I was out. Never would I see this stranger again. My wife's last words now rest heavy on my chest. She was away, but never far. Her captor was here, but far away.

He never gave her a choice, but I have mine. And I choose to go silently into the ocean's wake, eyes wide at the stars, until I slowly drift under. I will see you again.

They say "if you love something, you must set it free" well I honestly disagree.
There is so much I will never know, your love being one of them,
and this is something which troubles me (as one who strives to gain as much knowledge as he can).
But the difference between what you learn, and what you hold onto is so vast and disconcerting that it keeps me up at night. I want to know everything, yet most of all, I wish to hold onto you.
I know I will one day grow from your memory but I want to hold you in mine forever.
I want to hold you in the arms of my heart forever. You know you're forever mine, and baby I'm forever yours.
The knowledge I gain may try and push you from what memory I have, but I will fight to keep you in every thought. And that is a fight I know I can win.
The conversations we had, have, will follow me into the night. They will forever prey on the fibers of my mind and I will forever want to be preyed upon.
You can take everything I have, I don't mind, I will lay it down in front of you with love and knowledge that one day you will return the favor (even if that is not apparent to you now).
As a friend who knows a friend I am not a selfish fool who wishes to hold onto the riches he has, I want you to share in my riches. I want you to gain what I gain, because I know you believe what I believe. I know you wish what I wish.
And although this may come as a shock, my love, I have unimaginable joy for the life ahead of you.
I know you will do great things, even if you do not know this for yourself.

I know, according to the knowledge I have, I should let you leave and let you go, but I disagree.
I will fight.
I will fight the good fight to keep you in my life and keep your soul attached to mine.
For your grace brings me more knowledge than  all the books in the world. Your being brings me more warmth than the knowing of what is. Because your LOVE is all that "is" to me.
I wish to know and to hold you. Every inch of you.

And until you honestly leave I will continue to fight, to know and hold, you, the one who has helped me to know and hold onto myself. When in a time I have believed to truly lost myself, what I believe in, what I stand for (all of my soul).

You were there.

So I will continue to know and to hold you close to my heart, every fiber of my being, every inch of myself, until you move away. Far away. You're more than enough for me to be happy. I would give up every bit of my IQ, the quotient of my mind, to be ******* in the light of your smile and the shine of your soul. I would never learn another equation, another existence, another word, if it was you who accepted the task of replacing them. I would never know anything if I could truly know you, and you know this.

You are the one thing I long to know and to hold.

Blades of green, you are
ever so misleading me.
Poisonous beauty.

Stars are a beautiful, yet misleading, occurrence - they seem so close yet are so far away -
we can pull them in on a string at will, but their power will always keep us at bay.
A pale blue dot, we are from a far; yet up close we are people and buildings and cars.
All with lives we believe are our own, but what if from one we all had once flown?
One single energy experiencing billions of wonders, all with a mind and dreams when asunder?
All with ambitions and fears and with doubt. All with intelligence shadowed in clout.
Optics is truth, but isn't appearance, it lay in us all and we hold it with reverence.
But what you may see may not be what's there. But what you do feel, will always be fair.
From star dust we came, and will one day return. This is the truth, the truth which I yearn.

I move without
moving in perpetual fashion
towards,
forward,
while remaining
completely still.
Do you
notice me?
Standing here yet
growing
further away?
I remain
in one place
yet am in many
places at the same
time.
Thus is the sense
of perpetual
motion.
Movement in a line
and along
many.
All at once
yet
of many.
A straight
line
veering off course
in many directions
makes time
stand still
on a vine
we call life.

There's something you don't know about me. Something I'd never show. It's deep, it burns with no relief, in grief and strife below.  I'd let you walk all over me. I'd let you in the throes. If you didn't only love a man for what he didn't know.

With slender smiles you boast of me. And how I treat you right. But every night, from dusk 'til dawn, you wonder from my sight. I'd love to know just where you go. Or who'm it is you see. But I feel as though i'm just a part of the man I used to be.

I stress, and wait. Oblige in silence. Pick until my fingers bare. For you to come and set me true, to show me that you care. Just one word of honesty, just one statement fair. If I cannot abide your "love", then real love must be rare.

You came, you said you loved, you left; a tale as old as time. If I ever said I loved, I meant it. Your love a blatant lie.

No one can pain as much as you, not one can hold your due. But now I've found a love to love, a woman truly true.

A woman so outside herself, an angel by her grace.
To come and take me in her arms, and lead me from this place.
You strung me by, you left yet said I'd always be your man.
You thought I'd break, but now I'm living life with your best friend.

I cannot sleep directly next to another, but I do enjoy falling asleep with her.
Then after we are both asleep we slightly roll away to have space.
Yet I never truly fall asleep. Instead, I lay awake, thinking of your dreams.
Are they of me? I will possibly never know. Yet, for hope being, I hope they are.
You are my soul, and without my soul what am I?
Let me answer my own question: simply another man next to a woman;
for our souls are connected (you and I both know it),
and your dreams keep me awake because I can feel them.
What I wish may not be what is, but it is still what I wish,
and I will forever wish it until you realize what I need is the same as what you need.
Am I less than a man to think I can win this battle?
You say I need to be strong, but how can I?
Truly, how can I? You are with me, our souls intertwined, and yet
you lay faithful to a man who has left, cheated, left, and cheated again.
I do not know how much longer I can take it while holding you in my arms.
I do not know how much longer I can take it with you lying beneath my sheets.
However, you can stay as long as you'd like. I do not mind.
I am forever yours, and I know you're forever mine.

Comprising knowledge
not bound by the wonders of.
My laws always change.

A poet should never love another poet, there is:
far too much connotation, far too much feeling, and far too much longing.
Every word with a meaning of everything else, every kiss with want that is much more than self.
Every touch with a need to love and to hold, every thought just a thought much more to behold.
Every love just a ration, every crime just in passion, every thing growing younger and ever so old.

I feel like a body with no title;
A life that breathes with nothing to define it by.

It seems as though my engine as grown idle,
my tires ground to a halt,
my battery on empty (as well as my tank).

As I stand next to my life
     looking into the distance
all I see is fog.
The sound of my last cigarette fills the air around me as
it too
come to a halt.

Just as the last fiber of my being begins to unwind,
in helpless torment of the weight bearing on my soul,

headlights.

Write now, I sit in silence. The words escape me.
Prisoners running from the search-light.
I flee with the rest, unknowingly burying my head
amongst the tree moss growing wild.
Wild I see the flame.
A burning of un-rational youth, a flame which keeps reaching for a new sun, a new day, a new life.
So what, if you face me with advance. I counter and repose.
Here is your last breath, here is your knowing.
Now watch it disappear.

I wonder if there truly is a land beneath the sea
where a people had once thrived
that over time
was swallowed whole or partially.
Would we recognize this land
if we saw with our two eyes?
Or would we write it off as simply that which it now lyes?
Eroded by the waves of force,
this land which we now see
was once a land abundant and beautiful,
now lying beneath the weeds.
Or would we see this land for its true worth?
A place where creatures now give birth
to creatures ever changing
ever growing just like we.
We're not so much different, your land and mine.
Yours is simply beneath water, and mine beneath the sky.
If all evaporation had occurred simultaneously,
the mountains would have grown so high that gravity
would look a little different from your world now looking down.
How would you define mine? How would you wear your crown?
Would you pollute me and disuse me,
or would you understand my ways?
Instead of simply writing me off as such,
a land that's lost in waves.

You are a wonder of wonderers,
     A fiction of factors,
     A brief encounter in the minds of the counters.
Those who pry on the privy,
And laugh at the laughter,
Will never remain for the fruit of the after.
You are a dream of dreamers,
     A scribble by scribe,
     A leaf in the leaves and a lie in the lives.
Those who jumble the jaded,
And disrupt the corrupt,
Will never stand still, they'll leave so abrupt.
You are a bottom for bottomless,
     A cease with an end,
     A one who understands we're all born to begin.
Those who play on the played,
And step from the ground,
Will only fall forever, all the way down.

For few will notice and fewer will dwell -
     because you carry yourself like you travel through hell.
But I will be here to carry you through;
On my back, by my side, in my heart - a beauty beheld.

She entered the room, and my words were at loss.
My world slowed. My heart swooned. My eyes locked.
Her's did too. Although, at the time I did not know.
I must confess she stole my heart.
As this beauty moved through the crowd
they parted, creating a path directly to me.
With feet like cinder I stood in place.
She moved with elegance and grace forward.
I cannot say what it was we saw in each other.
However, whatever it was, in unison we said,
"Do I know you?",
and from that moment on our lives were forever changed.

I wake up as you sleep, rise to the sun. See what it holds and then lay back down.
The devil’s gonna set me free.
So through the Mississippi stain, the Tennessee twang, I lay there with my eyes glued to the wall. The pale plaster, the beige boredom.
I’ve got no place to call home, all these chains lead to broken bones.
But in this bed I feel at home, a piece of my past here at last, for you to east your troubled mass.
I love you like the spiral on my notes, holding my pages together with certainty.
I love you like the *** whistles, alerting me that our insides are boiling over, seeping out onto a dark and dismal surface.
I love you like the dull picture piercing my eyelids, seeping in from the TV screen at the foot of the bed I’ve made, keeping me awake.
I will be your spiral, your twice-welded metal, your spewing colors.
I will be the covers that hold you when the fan wanes, when the temperature wavers, and the heat creeps in.
You can keep your mountain side, I will climb it.
And when I reach the peak, and the wind from your planet pushes my heels to the side,
I will cry your name once more.
I will push, and you will push me back. And when our whirlwinds meet the they will calm themselves, sending each other into the blue ocean, the emptiness swallowing our sorrow.
And we will sink to the bottom, the pressure of the waves breaking our heads, and the silent sand welcoming us home.
We will befriend the dead. and welcome the living, the coral and sponge, the bubbles and breath.

It wasn't like I had never known this feeling.
I've got nothing, but you've got something that feels just, exactly right. This whole decision I understand is all up to me, but to me you were never anything more than a friend until then.
Do you have the answer for this? Is this just a way of breaking my heart?
I mean, I could hold my breath for hours if you'd hold it for me, but I just can't see you doing so. I'm just going to sink, and bubble.
And now the wind comes, and this delicate place becomes ruptured.
(This delicate place, shattered around misdeeds).
I was always on the outside looking in, but you never took the time to see,
this requiem of my dreams forgotten.
I'd love thee until my blood ran dry, my veins shriveled into dust, and the gray matter subsided into a dull blue.
I'd love you from the start, I would, but I was on the outside looking in
on the window panes, fogged from the dust from our mouths.  
This sentiment grows irritating.
My skin itching to be released.
Can you find me here? A nuance among ghosts.
Here I am. Calling for you. Hear me.
Will you?
My eternity.

I'm 25 and still alive.
Until this day I thought I'd died,
but something else has kept me here.
I'd say it's her but I'd have lied.

I'm 25 to my surprise.
I can't escape my bleak demise,
but I can always run away.
I'd say to here but I'd have lied.

I'm 25 and in my mind
I've swam the seven seas of time.
I've climbed upon the rocks
that peak the trouble in my worried mind.

I'm 25, and my heart breaks.
I feed upon the pain and aches.
I take my sight and take my kind
and focus on another rhyme.

I think what I think;
I do what I do;
I stay who'm I stay;
and I care what I make.
I love what I love;
I leave who I leave;
I wrong who I wrong;
and I say come what may.
I drink what I drink;
I smoke what I smoke;
I live just to live;
and I don't bother to think.

It's just the way I am,
and I am who I am.
I'm not one of them,
I'm a man, just a man.

No more or no less,
what you see is what you get.
I must confess,
I simply don't care.
This is solely the way,
the way that i am.

Mirror to mirror
creates a never ending
collage in-between

I wish I could behave more so as trees do;
or for that matter, as a tree does.

Be seen for my youth, before growing larger than life;
shading the proud while protecting the ones who cannot protect themselves from the elements.
See my leaves in all their beauty as they blow in the wind
See them change colors while everyone around admired their beauty
See them fall, and rejoice in how i remain without cover;
then when assumed dead, see them reborn again.

Repeating this process, I would, while remaining effortlessly still.
It would look as though I was doing nothing,
yet I would be providing everything.

Maybe I would bare fruit, or maybe I wouldn't.
To me it would never matter. Giving back would be enough.

And one day, when someone greedier than I
would take from me the things I love
they would count my rings and see the illustrious, long, life i had lived.

My remains would be turned into millions of sheets of paper,
and people would write beautiful poetry on me
expressing the inner workings of their souls.