I do not stand alone,
Thinking that in this world,
There is something unknown.

Unknown is the reason for greed,
For wealth and harboring, A ******,
A sickness untreated to allow innocence to bleed.

Unknown is the reason for racism,
Spoken slanders and propaganda's,
Media's misguided music to masses for totalitarianism.

Unknown is the need to be accepted,
A collection of emotions to be displayed,
Not being ourselves - The worst, portrayed.

I need not know a lot for I know this,
That love overcomes all and ties us together,
In an intercontinental consciousness.

I know this because walls have been brought down,
Children play where none were once found,
People still rejoice in helping, healing and sound.

I need not know a lot because this, I have found.

When I was a child,
I would wake,
To a brand new world,
My mind would take,

With an ounce of solace,
From being within my dreams,
I would fight the world,
To remain in my sheet's,

Because like a caterpillar,
I would be cocooned snugly in my bed,
But would be washed out like the spider,
When the curtains opened and shone light upon my head,

With a new spring in my step,
I would flee downstairs,
For I knew there would be a breakfast -
To which no other could compare!

For my breakfast was no ordinary meal,
As I used to eat wishes with cereal and milk,
A dish where a wish could be made real!

I stare into a knowledgeable warm light,
This, my last plight, this, my last sight.

I stare into a new horizon,
A day that's yet to dawn but shows its effervescent self in the air to come.

I stare into what is to become,
At technology's twist in the fated hand of man, what - if it could - would it reprimand?

I stare into what I've become,
The man, the idea and the decision.

I stare longingly into my love,
My heart, my spirit, my mind.

I stare into what seems an eternity,
On the field banks of mortality, I wave to what seems detached from me.

I stare into nothingness,
Which resonates a universal pitch in which I play my harp harmoniously.

I have stared and realised all that I have missed,
As I spent so long looking that I forgot to live.

You were in Bottocelli's dream,
That you came from the sea,
Surfin' - a shell to the shore.

If there's one kind of thing,
That'll make your heart sing,
Is her beauty - You just can't ignore!

You're a daughter of mother nature,
Your father is of the sky,
Homer told your story but you,
Are the love of my life.

-Josh Whitton