In the garden,
an old man sits
head bowed over a book.

And the breeze softly turns the page.

His eyes
that no longer heed the author's words
that once knew beauty and tears and smiles
are dim.

And the breeze softly turns the page.

His hand
that once fitted perfectly another's,
that remembered the warm softness of a baby's hair
and the icy clasp of snow
is cold.

And the breeze softly turns the page.

His heart
that once beat with the rhythm of passion and excitement
and the gentler cadence of love
is still.

And the breeze softly closes the book.

Lonely, deep, swift moments I commune with you,
Looking through my open window into blue,
Uncharted, star-filled, never-ending space
That holds the cherished image of your face.

Longings I would tell you in sweet, sudden word,
Catching in my throat, are stilled, and never heard;
And lovely, unsaid thoughts surge up anew
To wing across the darkness, seeking you.

Knowing not the time and distance in between,
Silently and eagerly, by eyes unseen;
Across the star-filled, never-ending blue
My heart springs up and runs away to you.

Be strong for I am with you,
in everything you do.
When exhaustion you doth overtake,
I'm here to pull you through.

When insecurity abounds,
and you are filled with doubt.
Be strong for I am with you,
together we will out.

And when hard choices you must face,
not alone you make your stand.
For I am right beside you,
and your hand is in my hand

And late at night whilst in your bed,
you feel so safe from harm.
It is 'cause I am with you,
and you lay within my arms

"And your very flesh shall be a great poem."
-Walt Whitman

And your *******,
Like mountains over the course of eons,
Will rise and fall
With your quickening breath.

Your breaths can outlast time.
Your voice can topple empires.
Your sighs are intoxicating—
I get drunk off your words.

Words fall pathetically short.
One thousand poets and scribes cannot
Express to you a single drop
Of the ocean behind my lips.

Kiss them, and drown with me
In a sea of our own creation,
A world where love is no longer trite,
And poems about it are
Dangerously revolutionary.

We will be pioneers amongst lovers!
O! we will be pioneers!

We will travel the globe under the guise of night.
And I will cross the planes of your back,
The valley between your shoulders.
I will rappel kisses off the cliff of your collarbones
And over your *******, which,
As mountains enduring but an instant of eternity,
Will rise and fall
With your quickening breath.

And we will stand against time itself.

And it will crumble beneath our gaze.

And we will outlast eternity.

Because we are pioneers amongst lovers!
O! we are pioneers!

The rapping and tapping,
the hitting and slapping,
sipping and slurping,

The munching and crunching,
the snacking and slacking,
hunching in a darkened room,

Facebook steals your youth.

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

I have been to the highest step outside the gates of Heaven;
The gold flickers from the light that was within me.
I have been to the deepest caves of Hell
Where basalt lays as soot on the layers of my skin.

I have known the wonders of altering reality
With a word or a thought. It's easy.
And I have also known how it is deceived
To the point one has no control.

I have traveled the strands of Grey between
The extremes of Black and White,
And have worked them to aid and heal,
To defend and to start a fight.

I found there are many roads that lead
To Heaven and to Hell; I promise,
No one is traveled alone unto itself.
They weave amongst each other.

The Grid that nets us all as One
Exists for those who seek it.
But to use it is to be alone in a world
That finds each piece as separate.

I have kissed the hands of Saints and Angels,
And the lips of devils too.
Shadows bleed across my vision
Where Light and Dark create the Self.

I have been to many places that are
Reflections of us all.
But in the end no one is different,
We fade in the singular point of Death.

If you can keep your head when all about you
  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
  And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Ice tastes better from a glass but you can't bear to part with plastic. I cannot for the life of me understand why you keep your room so cold. The window open, the fan blowing. It's set on high and you sleep undisturbed, unmoved, and unflawed. Splashed across the face of your television is a glossy reality that is anything but. When will you learn that life viewed through rose colored glasses is not a life at all? Worn tight around your finger is that ring you bought at the market eight Sundays ago. Impure metal, as I said, will stain you. But that's you, isn't it? Constantly going for the gold, but getting only green. The barren, glaring space beside you will soon be filled. It's love that you seek, but it's merely warmth that you'll find. Goodbyes were always difficult between us, so I'll say it to your sleeping face. Goodbye. I hope the world is kind to you.