The last creature of the world,
Seeing the land through peaceful eyes,
Did the one thing it always wanted to do;
It swallowed the sun.

Human beings are we all,
Each of us sharing views, that differ and are similar, and
Hang suspended in the air
By pieces of thread called emotions.

We all hold to our minds
Thoughts of hate and sorrow,
Revenge and jealousy.
The mind is the chamber of negative secrets.

We all hold to our hearts
Feelings of love and joy,
Happiness and bliss.
The heart is the bed chamber of positive secrets.

The beating rhythmic heart in the center of our chest
Is the one thing that forever remains pure.
The thudding mass of brain that is our mind
Is what is susceptible to pollution.

If every human being follows their heart
And not what their mind thinks is correct,
No one in this world will be lost.

I lay my head in your lap.
You stroked my hair with a gentle hand,
And searched my face with your eyes
And lightened my heart with a smile.
That was the most perfect moment
In a long while.
My heart is yours,
I love you,
My heart is yours.
I wanted to say these things,
But I didn't.
The silence was what held that moment together.
My heart is yours
And I do love you.
You know this already.

It was night
There were no clouds in the sky,
Just stars in the black sea.
Noise spilled through the doors of the bar.
Outside the Brass Rail people with alcohol in their system
And the ***** in their lungs crowd the 49 highway.
In the middle of the road,
Where the white and yellow lines run parallel,
A wild smiling girl sets the triangle of bowling pins.
A ways down the highway line, a smiling man with blond dreadlocks
Swings his arms back and forth, ready to threw the ball.
The wild girl moves, the man throws his ball, the crowd cheers, trucks honk,
And the pins are hit!
Everyone jumps in the air, everyone claps and whistles,
And the game starts over again.
Bowling on highway 49 in North San Juan, California.
These wild free spirits are my friends.

The tea is steeping.
The fire is dancing.
Here I am sitting,
With a book in my hands.

Outside the wind is blowing,
Cold and dry
Like the breath of a night lizard of the desert.

The biting winds promise for rain,
But the shallow blue skies will not yield to the call
For liquid storms.
So here we all are,
In-between what seems summer and
What seems to resemble the autumn season.
The leaves all round are shifting to warm colors,
Yet much of the vegetation remains lush and green.

This season is one undecided and uncertain,
Like,
I now note,
Many of the realities occurring.
Change and uncertainty is tasted by so many at once,
Just like all of nature round us.
Undecided uncertainty.
What confusion and mystery is life?

That day at the river was the most beautiful.
There was a balance in the air that day;
everything was perfect.
We both smiled and laughed.
We fed each other forkfuls of lemon cheesecake.
We embraced and kissed.

Everything was vibrant that day and seemed to be glowing.
The water.
The rocks.
The trees and bushes.
The sky.
The few white clouds.

That day will always remain in my memory
As the most beautiful birthday I have ever had.

I am now sitting cross-legged on the grass,
And it starts to rain.
Slowly my dry hair is heavy with water
And my clothes are soaked through.
My cell-phone is in my pocket,
And I know that soon the water will reach it's center battery
And it will die.

This knowledge doesn't bother me, but even now,
I hope that the last of the tiny phone's electric breathe
Will let out a vibration, telling me I have received a message,
And I keep hoping it is from him.

....

Each time we conversed of an end
I was so quick to tell him that love was the strongest and not to worry.
I wasn't thinking of what was best for him, or me,
I was only thinking of what I wanted.

I hear many people say I am mature for my age.
I am mature in somethings.
But not everything.

....

Recently my mother told me,
"Sometimes we need a big shock to open our eyes, to help us move our feet forward."

I understand that now.

He always said he knew what would be best for me,
And whenever he did I would be get angry and tell him that no one knew.
I wouldn't listen to what he said.
I would fight it before all the words were formed,
Because I didn't want to let go.
I didn't want to wait for a future that might have us in it,
I wanted that future to be now.  

All the advise he gave me was for our own good.
By fighting and fighting it I brought an ugly end to our friendship.

This has been the biggest lesson of my life,
And though it is hard, this is how things go.
We make mistakes, many times repeat them, and then we have to face them.

I am looking into the window of my room,
Where on the sill there stands his painting.
I am the white and pink flower.
He is the golden and black bee.
He has wings, and he must use them to fly.
I have a stem, and for a little while longer I must grow taller.
One day I will break apart into little seedlings and the wind will carry me through the air,
And then, then is when I may fly beside him.