Through the wandering spectrum
Of cerulean dragonfly eyes
You fly without hesitation
Observing the vast and marvelous world
As if it were your own
As if it were your cut-out template,
With an admirable sense of wonder
And the fervent desire
Not only to know
But to contemplate
The luminescence of a fluttering firefly
How the brittle mechanisms of life
Apply
Through crystal-clear dragonfly wings
You carry your mind

Her thoughts so weary and bitter tasting
Forevermore to feel tired and wasted
Aging dreams and makeup nights
Feet so high she hits the lights
Falling for the guile of each street salesman
He opens his jacket; "Each is a haven,"
Claims of lightposts, illumination of the dark
She's falling asleep on a bench in the park
Urbanization of hardy measures
Have tempted her to indulgent pleasures
Whiskey whiffs of fallen kings
Street lights showing off the obscene
The days are gone of lasting serendipity
She's misplaced in what was once her own city

Balancing willows on the tip of the earth
The ground below eagerly catching their tears
Their dilapidated easel is poorly shaken
But they have not given into such inconceivable fears
A thinking man's dream of peace forsaken
Only to build in one hundred drawn-out years
The simplicity of man has thus been taken
As the willow weeps for that so cavalier
Where the grease of industrialization so nonchalantly flows
The willow in his beautiful stability knows
That when man's irreverent complexity grows
His drooping leaves to wilt like a rose

This is what I imagine it feels like
To be a tree, blossoming in Spring
Watching its fruits and flowers
Become vitality
This is what I imagine you feel like
To be an azure river, arduous journeys
Until you reach your delta, knowing soon
You will become, once again, part of your ocean
This is what I imagine it's like
To be the cloud, billowing as it gets darker
Knowing soon, it will be a part of its earth again
Natural cyclic routines
Bring more beauty than we can dream

Words carve feathered, crude,
Beautiful walkways
For each witty and farcical bon mot
Spoken as though your mind turned
For each cleansing reflection
Gazing through the pristine waters
For each sparkling moment
Of escaping what is the most sought-after mundanity
Words are windows
Fitting perfectly into the frames for which they were designed
Yet possessing the capability to open
To the ever-whooshing excitement
If words are an inspiration
Why am I left speechless