Time is relevant.
All aboard.

A river floes with fluidity.
Falling over a fault.
Seen as majestic,
known as a waterfall.
Falling into what seems,
An un-growing sea.
That is you and me.
I am the water
Falling over the thought of you.
Crashing into a pond,
Refreshing and blue.

We finally able to play our song,
To sing out and share our excitement.
But before our first notes,
We go out of tune.
Playing sour chords, blaming each other.
We drag on playing different songs.
In perfect discourse.
Not embarrassed for for our lack of listening,
But distraught of our dissonance.
Disbelief will soon die and we shall see some sort of saving,
But not in each other.
We lay upon our fret boards, modulating often.
Changing key to adjust to the counter,
Yet never making harmony.

Love is but a song;
Playing to the tune of your heart.
It progresses,
From something simple to poetic.
It changes,
From a note into a melody.

So sing out that hidden song from within.
Play those heartstrings, never stopping.
Follow the song into oblivion.
Build on each sound, making chords
That flow from idea to idea.
Stringing together a melody.

You are the bird that hears my song,
And continues to sing it.
You occupy the hole in my heart.
Making residence,
Somewhere to grow and learn
To fly and spread that newly learned melody.

Almost a week and your still going.
No word, no sound, not even a breath.
Are you in the midst of the darkness?
Or have you gone for quite some time now?
Dare I say, were you even here in the beginning?
Three questions deserve an answer,
But likely no response.
I have searched for endless days,
But that key is sure not to be found.
So I broke down your hearts door.
Now I fear something more then not being loved.
In the light produced by truth
I'm seen as unwanted, a intruder.

Your love for me
Lifts me like the air beneath these paper wings,
Soaring into the setting sun.

I fly to greater heights
Everyday and every night,
As long as I glide upon the current of you.

My flight makes your presence known;
The way I'm controlled by the direction I'm blown.
I ask send me soaring further into your arms.

Was welcomed into the dark cloud
resting on the mountaintop.
For war and unlikely failure.
The unwillingness to give up
protects against the loss from
The one who breathes surrender.

Trying to steal that pearl from your mouth.
But as your name says, you shut me out.
I then get tossed in the undercurrent.
You offer not a hand, but a laugh.
I drift alone thinking of what I can.
I the seahorse, and you the clam.

Like the beach longs for high tide.
The waves to lap upon the coarse sand
And make it walkable again.

We sing and dance in this song parade.
Although, I am the only one who sees your masquerade.
Most see intricate patterns; I see only a lying face.

Oh how I am perfectly formed my edges caressed, shaped, and placed in a pattern by a steady hand. Set on a shelf for those who came across the sea, to see and purchase me. I am propped between two, one a dragon and the other a swan. I sit quietly to be picked and loved. I long to sink some root down but at last I realize how I am not truly able to do that. Growing is not in my character; I am more a caricature, only there to express spring. My petals sing with bright colors to distract the eye. That way I can trick a sojourning soldier trying to stay alive into buying this fake glory. I am holding onto the idea of being real and seal the thought of not feeling this hole deep within my papers seams. Seen as a work of art only represents time spent, more like wasted. The taste of lies fills your heart and I am glad only because you see me sitting crowded between many things. Things not creatures; created by an earthy man humbly bowing over plain sheets. I was once in that place waiting to be created. Thinking of what I might be: A plane to soar across great plains and over seas, a frog with bent knees hoping from a sense of jubilee, or even a crane bending great distances from the tops of trees. Yet I meekly was pressed into the meadows stars. Shinning on a summers day, listening to the children play. How we sway to a cool breeze, to tease the rocks and grass only seen through a magnifying glass. Sounds great but that’s only what I see from my ledge of a home. Out the windowsill I see me as I wish to be. Yet still I sit quietly thinking that will never be, for I am just a fake flower charming known as origami.

I woke startled from silence,
And saw the sheer beauty of stillness.
When you stop and see,
You realize what you know not.
The world is bigger then what it seems.

Dance to the beat of the daffodils upon the blades of grass.
Through the wind escaping from the valley.
They move solely to soak in the sun,
Growing them into a song and dance.
Picked by two lovers on a summers day.
Placed in the space behind the ear,
Camouflaged within her hair.
Traveling seeing the whole land.
Planted in the garden at home,
Sinking the roots down to grow another choir.
Spring up to sing a perfect harmony.
Tuning to the Autumn breeze.
Unifying all who has a chance to stop and ponder on certain things.
Thus become distracted and embraced,
By the smell of those dancing daffodils.