you know that feeling.
when you look in her eyes,
and you know, its not just that you see them anywhere you go,
all over the world.
but its all of the world, all that you know, all that you love
reflected in those eyes,
back at you.

blue and green,
when seen
in those eyes in which you stare at so desperately,
separately,
are the colors not only of the land and the sea
but the shades of the strings,
clinging you
to reality.

Cliché though it might be
to suggest that she
in her eyes, in her soul
that she had the key,
she has the key
to that which holds all things dear to me,
i see
no other way to describe that feeling she leaves
in me
when i look in her eyes, and there sits she
hand in hand
staring back at me.

what does it mean?
..to live?
to live among friends,
yet be born and die alone?

and if anything,
what does it mean to die?
to end that which does not exist?

what can be said of life and death,
which can be created and destroyed
in the space of a breath.

why is it so?
how do we know?
the sanctity of life, be it great or small
destroyed are they by the simple sanctimonious evils
of all which oppose it.
what does it all mean?

if anything...

love
without it a we cannot live
but love...
four letters,
one syllable,
a world of meaning.

love,
it can be no more simple than two children sitting on a bench
but o the complications,
be they numerous or scarce
act as simply the repair of bone, further reinforcing it,
and allowing strength for the future.

but love is not merely the bone of the life it permeates.
it is the blood,
the flesh,
the life and the soul.
without it i cannot live..

i awaken i see to my left the sunrise,
the reds the yellows and orange
reflecting off the sky
and see,
as i look upward,
the reflection of it's beauty on the ceiling.
from the mirror on the water outside

i lie in my bed,
in my perfect world,
not a thought nor a care to me

i hear the birds singing songs of perfection,
and their beautiful feathers i see.
when is it made clear
that the things which i hear
are in actuality naught but my dreams

for as i sleep,
in my perfectly non-perfect world,
it is all but imperfect, it seems.