I'm not saying it won't be hard.
This is the most difficult thing you will ever do.
I dare you to leave home,
And never look back.
Talk to your family for their benefit,
Only to neglect your own desire to call out to them,
Because that makes it harder.
Forget your friends,
So you may realize how much you don't need them,
And who your real friends truly are.
Suppress old memories,
In order to make room for many more,
To have a real definition of what it means to live.
Most of all, discover what happiness is in purest form:
The sun on your hair,
Fingers aching after playing guitar for too long,
Understanding a language more foreign than you know,
And a smile from a stranger.
All of this for what?
To know the world just a little bit better
And find a home outside of your comfort.

Hold* my hand tight,
Let us walk through *hurricanes,
Soar over the seas to lands unknown.

And I will take you to tomorrow,
Till the Isles Of Illusion,
To gape at Castles Of Glass.

Aisles of Autumn trees,
Don't compare to your evergreen eyes,
That soft smile,
Goes through me like thunder,
When my hand within yours you hold,
My heart feels like its about to leap and fall.

If I could just dare to dance,
I'd be Skipping on the stars,
Be Laughing out Loud.

You're the dream that I can't wake up from,
The distant glimmer that I want to believe,
The one thing that will forever evade me.

The billowing curtain awoke her,
To the voices that carried whispers over the wind,
Through the bay's serene extensive port.

As if in a trance, she followed that breeze,
That tendril of fresh ocean air touching her skin,
Leading to witness moon and stars hold court.

The ocean lay in front of her, teeming and voluminous,
It would have continued onto the sky, if unrestrained by the horizon.

Cold moonlight flooded her face, and she heard again those ancient echoes,
Such wonder she saw in these waves as they spoke, teased and enlightened.

There's an alarm going off;
it's not a siren, mind you,
but an alarm.

The very same buzzing and
beeping that oft
assaults our dreams
and sleep-havens;
bringing us back to the
dreary sunlight of day,
or the last few moments of night
clinging to what life it has left.

This alarm, of which I speak to
you now, is continuing.
The continuous assault on my
eardrums throughout everything
I do.
I walk through the leaves that begin
to grace the ground, saying "hello" to
the dirt that it's been so far from for so
long.
Within the sanctity of the classroom,
where professors grace students
with life lessons and years of experience
or lack thereof.
Within my own home where I continue
to make a meal for the evening, desiring
not to go hungry.

Continuous.

I hear it everywhere, and
as I reach for the button, to stop
this incessant noise
barraging my thoughts
and ears, I realize, I'm awake,
and I've been awake all this time.
There is no off button for this alarm.

What is it reminding me of?
What do I need to awake from?