With the passing of the snow
people come and people go;

There is something quite different about the flow -
It seems to be faster or perhaps a bit slow;

As of right now the only thing I know
is that along with the flow I must also go;

It is hard to carry on when it holds me so low,
but I do what I can to remain afloat;

I collect all the highs and carry all the lows
I keep them in my heart - it is a part of the show;

When my head is down and I've lost all my glow
I pick it up again, proudly - I go with the flow;

If you want to shine bright you have to let it show,
You must piece together the soul of your ship in order to stay afloat.

Tripping over galaxies just to taste your lunar lips
Love that remains an effortless echo of your grand eclipse

Sailing through this solar system, an infinite space of a place
To lie with my beloved moon amid the starlit black lace

Cascading in the cosmos just to pick you out a star,
but don't worry about worrying because I'm never very far

They say saturns rings are beautiful in the spring and Neptune is nice in June
So let's go, just me and you, maybe right now, tomorrow, or sometime quite soon

All of your constellations were worth the exploration of tasting your lunar lips,
So I give all my love to you, the light that guided my ship

Would you still sing your tune
If they told you that you would never be a bird?
Would you still shout your opinion to the world
If they told you that you would never be heard?

Would you still stand tall
If they told you that you would never be the tallest?
Would you still voice your voice
If they told you it would always be the smallest?

Would you still let it shine
If they told you that your love was a crime?
Would you still spread your love all over the land
If they told you spreading hate was a much better plan?

Would you still be brave and proud and strong
If they told you that to be a bird you would have to sing a
Much different song?

Through the looking glass
Of your eyes
I see hallow trees in a barren forest and skies
As black as coal

A desolate quiet so empty
You can hear the thump of your half-beating heart

Flowers don't grow here
For fear that they will be uprooted-
And they will-
By the cold, lifeless grasp of you

Those flowers don't belong here anymore
And perhaps they never did-
For how can life ever hope to flourish
In something so dead?

Those butterflies that used to so freely
fly inside, have now, it seems,
found a new place to reside.
They always made themselves at home,
rich within my core, but their
presence is now missing- their feeling is
no more.
I hope they have found a new body to
cradle their fluttering needs,
because they, you see, are no longer
satisfied with me.
I can only wish that they will flourish and
grow, for inside me that possibility is
no longer so.
So when they discover their home anew-
I hope they think of their original palace-
me, the person they once knew.