I think everyone has some

small

secret notebook

Filled to bursting with every sense of heaven

that only they can feel......



Because my book is filled with rain on cars roofs and great thunderstorms

and birds singing on the first day of spring as cool air blows through open windows,

and even just the feeling of Saturday churches with their great stained glass, even if god left me a long time ago

Because every page in my book is tinged with an empty sort of melancholy that stems from being forgotten



But I know for certain my moms is full of ocean waves battering the shore, because she knows how it feel to rage slowly like a river carving a canyon



Yet my brothers is full of the way coyotes howl when planes fly overhead because he aches with a longing far past what was expected of him



But my little sister is a grand fair ground full of light and laughter because she is the softness of cotton candy melting in the mouth of Someone who hasn't had to grow thick skin



And I think my father used to be a bit like all of us once, the light the laughter the ache to be someone

But somewhere along the way of being beaten into someone he never wanted to be his pages grew tinged with regret that ate away at the book like flames eating away at houses

And I think...

the greatest way to ruin the heaven of the world around you

is to not take solace in your daughters genius

or to recognize the dreams of your son,

to never kiss the raging sea of your lover

and to never dance under Circus lights with your little one



For I would rather wander aimless through the desert with only broken bottles and night breezes to my name that live with the regret of not having lived at all

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|I promised myself to live better than you