The achingly luminous sun both sets and rises,
gliding through the endless sapphire sky
trailing behind a stream of misfit colors
surpassing and lighting every cloud passed by.


The darkest of clouds are filled with dead dreams,
holding sorrow is what it seems.
But each droplet of pouring rain
is a single thriving dream
falling down to earth's asphalt lanes
nurturing the plants and feeding every stream.



The sky is but a still gray sea.
All of the glorious colors of the universe,
the liveliness of everything be,
are being ****** into each individual rain drop,
in reverse.

In the dusk of the night,
the sun but glances at the moon.
Interchangeably lighting the earth and its sight,
illuminating the magnificent butterflies
as they burst from each cocoon.

What you call night, is someone else's day.
Somewhere perhaps greater,
where the promised lands lay.

On only the rarest of evenings,
the sun and moon meet.
Everyone stops their grievings,
they align perfectly neat.

The world is at a pause.
All of the colors from the world bleed.
Draining from the life and laws,
reaching every seed.

These moments are svelte
and never last
just like the feeling of love I have felt
which always seems be in my past.