I could never write a poem as beautiful as you are to me
Nothing man-made
Nothing in nature
Nothing can ever be

And if the universe should have an end
Maybe I'll find you there
I'm too numb to feel this pain
I'm too young to feel this hopeless

So I sit with my back to the wall and my head in my hands
Knowing about nightfall
Thunderstorms
And black holes
I could never write a happy ending

I woke up to all the symbols losing meaning
The changing lights are changed
The moon can hang low enough to reach
What can be seen
Only when we close our eyes

I have to live
Even if the lines are changing
And the scene is not the same it used to be
I have to love
I give my blood without bleeding

Take in time
A particle
A memory
The way the waves
The way the sun

I woke up to a different dream
Where the kiss of heaven brought me blue
And my life spent staring at the stars
Was all in vain
When I was only becoming

I have to live
Find god through self discovery
As the stars that hang bright over me
Hang somberly
In a different place in the sky

If the world is changing
So can I

are you one of yesterday's broken
or at least bent out of shape
does tomorrow have you hoping
that today will go away

have you considered this a lesson
in spite of the troubles made
it doesn't take a detective
to see the blessings that it gave

turning you from the direction
of a full blown catastrophe
changing your whole life's perception
to that of a greater need

where today will be a treasure
tomorrow, something to look forward to
and yesterday can be finally laid to rest
along with the worries holding you

There's a time, somewhere between 12am and 6am,
When all artistic, damaged or insomniatic souls
Feel like they're completely alone
Even though we're all awake and feeling the same thing.
12am is still too loud, still too car engines and shouting,
And 6am is too light, too exposing and awake, aware.
It's blackness but for the starlight puncturing holes in the sky,
That's when the magic arises and enchants us.
The way the moon looks at us and begs us to untrouble our weary hearts,
So we do it, and we do it willingly.
She is the most unfaithful lover, and it is beautiful.
How she cherishes each whispered secret so deeply
That it leaves a crater on her being.
How she takes on our pain unflinchingly,
And only needs 28 days to feel whole again.
There's a time, somewhere between 12am and 6am,
When the most trapped souls can feel such freedom.

When time and wind and earth
Has stripped away our skin and flesh
And turned our bones to dust and ash
What then will we remember of what we were in life that was beautiful
What do dead eyes dream of when they become ethereal ghosts
Of echo and mist
And the heart has long since flown away to another life
To love and break and scar and love
And watch another cage made of bone
Age and rust and fade away
To time and wind and earth
And slowly forget what in life was beautiful
What then can dead eyes do
but dream
And count the colors of
Time and wind and earth
And see the echo of the mist
Of what makes all things beautiful
And in the vision of this fog
What do dead eyes dream
But the dream of
life and love
And love and life
of all things beautiful