Maybe we are the incessant voices crying out for change
Individuals who voice their thoughts
Who give their ideas a color
Adding to the collage of passions that piece together this dying world
Maybe we have a thought which we hold on to no matter what
This passion guiding us to the future we do not fully understand
But know is right,
An idea which shapes our minds and souls
Maybe we are the weak and weary
Whose voices will be carried on the faintest of rhythms
But to those who hear will snuggle under the warm idea we share with the world
And under this quilt of patchwork interests we find solitude in one another
Maybe we want to have an impact on the future
Where perspective will no longer buffer our progress
But accumulate into an unstoppable flood
Where one idea will be carried on the shoulders of his son
Or cradled so lightly in the arms of her daughter
Maybe we wish to see a world where you can be who you are
And be a glowing beacon to your kin
Where your memory will shine for generations to come
Without being forgotten or lost in the eternities of time
Maybe we wish to be heard, rather than standing back
Beneath the arrogance of man
Who clamor upon one another to be listened to
Trampled like newborns to their mother
Leaving behind the ones who are not as strong
Maybe we want something more
Yet not know what that may be
And so we wait here
As this cruel world decrees
Waiting for our turn to be heard

Nothing burns brighter than a greedy heart
Wrought with pleasures and fueled with pride
As if self destruction was what he sought
The flames eating, crackling away
A mind contorted, flash frozen in pure gold
Permanently holding his thoughts, bitter cold
And as his salvation begins to fade
Like all his friends who've glumly turned away
His dark twisted heart, now charred and burnt
The ashes, the ashes, crisp and frayed
And like all men his legacy dims
Lost in the sands of time
But those singed greeds can always remain
Beneath the dirt, with the passing of seasons and years
And like all men they hungrily dig
Ending up desiring all the same

I hope and I pray
That some--dire day
The world will be my cushion when I fall
Hopefully by then
I, gladly can
Be held up by my friends all along
But if by then I have forgotten
What it means to love
I hope my fall will only wake me with the pain
I open my story books
Where secrets hide in nooks
And cracks which hold my, greatest shame
I hope and I pray
That some--dire day
I can lead my own way
Down this rocky path
And across the oceans vast
Where the skies are blue at last
I will boldly step into the shrouded unknown
But with the fire in my heart
I pray I'll burn a path through the stars
And pierce the heavens where the gods stand
And with my own hand
I will hold onto my dream
My dream
My dream
Where I will have friends to lean on
Despite what I've accomplished on my own.

Dust did settle soft, upon the bookshelf near the sill
Like Autumn leaves, books scattered the floor
Across the rug of amber golden till
A mahogany desk filled the corner wall
A waste basket still vacant with crumpled rough drafts of previous attempts
Held the memories of good times and bad
Times etched into our memory
To be held onto and carefully nurtured
To fall back on when our world is a rainy set
A warm candle burnt beside lamp, laying so carefully over the desk
Like a balancing act it stood so still
Only for the flame to flicker
Dust did settle soft, upon the bookshelf near the sill
This which sparked my imagination, my head in which to fill