I'll turn into a song
when everything feels wrong
While the roses are still red
Intrinsically, I'll sing along.
While still I'll rise, and glance ahead
Until I entirely realize:
that im alive within these half dreamed dreams.

powerful to mind that somewhere glow sunbeams-
the inevitable engulfing night, remember,
's oh so shorter than it seems.


Wistfully forget
Or
gracefully remember,
I turn into a song-
and its a very solemn playlist.

Sometimes all it takes is to look into the eyes of someone who really knows you to actually see yourself. To be reminded of the things that are too small to loose. Small and essential, necessary- and constantly utilized .
Like the ability to love and be loved back- to truly receive love. To understand, and then to multiply it.
Or the ever underrated ability that is actual listening. To truly and activity be able to listen to someone or something- so few it seems are blessed with this.  As I move throughout people I realize how rare these gifts can really be and
how much of a gift
that is in itself-
That I might really know them.

To the moon and back you said -
I guess you've landed on earth again.