It's sad that with age,
the less dreams we tend to have.
Many a night the older and tired sleep,
wishing for dreams to inpsire them,
just like years ago.

It is ironic,
how men deal with Gods.
They pray to one,
with loving words
and are loyal to their faceless deity.
But if one came
to claim the earth as its own,
showing itself for the world to see,
men would fight it.
Because when one can put a face to a god,
they will never bow their heads.

Come Wayward Souls
that wander in the darkness.
There is a light for the lost and the meek.
Sorrow and fear
are easily forgotten,
when you submit to the soil of the earth.
Grow tiny see,
you are gone to the tree.
Rise, till your leaves fill the sky,
until your sighs fill the air in the night.
Lift your mighty limbs,
and give praise
to the fire.

Have you ever noticed,
just how big a tree
can grow from the smallest seed?
Though not all trees are grande
and not all trees are pretty.
Some block out the sun
giving the small ones barely any light.
Killing them.
Sometimes tiny seeds,
grow to be brutes and massive giants.
And that is how nature goes.

You said you never catch feelings
and that's ok with me.
Only for a moment did I think
that I loved you at all.
But now I realize,
just how cold you truly are.
And what sad life you will live.

I walk by them often
you have too.
The fakers who judge what you do,
who pretend to be,
more than they are.
Who believe they're safe,
down to the core.
Who paint their faces different hues,
who laugh and smile when others do.
Oh the fakers, movers, and shakers,
why do I let you stay?
And let you judge another day?

Life is not fair.
No matter how many times you convince yourself,
that life is equal, you waste your breath.
It's a common tale to all men,
that life shows you beautiful things,
but never lets you touch.
Perhaps that is why we dream.
To live a life for the briefest moments,
where life was good to you for once.