I wanted to write about my bed,
Of how I wanted to sleep in it always,
All inspired I fell asleep instead.

When summer made its final touches
On our far-from-senior-souls
We packed bags and stuffed away memories

We folded away track t-shirts
And cheer leading skirts
We tucked away trumpets
And color guard uniforms
Pressed against the back walls of our closets
Underneath a teal box
Of all-but-blue memories

We reopened our backpacks
Our boxes
And our trunks
To fill a room with newfound youth
With untouched purpose

We created laughs
Where there had not even been empty echoes
Bound by immaturity
Searching for our selves
On a journey we had yet to even recognize

And it was about to be summer again
When sunshine would spin our spirits

So we made some tears
Over lost grades
And missing friends
Over newfound hope
And uncertain tomorrow.

May the stars shine just for you.
May the rainbow display its
Most glamorous colors for you.
May the sun shine golden and,
May the moon embrace you in
Her silver light every night.
May your mirror not lie to you.
May your heart best your mirror.
May your day have room for prayer.
May your sadness leave room for joy.
May your joy leave room for sharing.
May you love the world as well as
You love yourself. And,
May you be an asset of joy to the
World you live in,
And to the next.

- J. Sandy

The eerie existence of a simple moment,
           Small and finite, yet full of pretentious meaning...
                                   Simply crossing through dimensions -
                       Almost systemiatically defining life,
           Clarity amongst a constant ibid of chaotic misdirection.
Leaving us with profound instances of life,
                                                                       death,
                                                                            love and loss...

trying to love you without seeing you
is like catching the wind in my hands

holding out hope that you'll love me one day
is like pinning a wave to the sand

Sweet flower, all the meadows creatures
Are dancing, giddy in their bustle ways
And even the wild cherry has petals laid.
How do they all know that we are in love?

Time passes by, cutting a swathe through worlds.
Empires fall, mountains crumble, and the San Andreas fault gapes open.
Bodies decay, graves sink into earth, the Sun glares down,
and the Moon creeps closer.
The Burning Man watches, silent, unmoved and present.

He stares at the world as it rusts over.
He walks its dead deserts, its barren oceans,
through the skeletons of buildings and over sagging highways.
He watches the vast dirt plains of the American metropolis,
and the dustbowl of Russia over the burial grounds of the Orient.

He is solitude, and does not wonder why.

Without You
I would have no anchor
and would be left drifting,
aimlessly, in the endlessness
of a sea without shores.