A pencil is But
Wood,
With out the
lead,
With no
Fingers to write,
It is an
Idle thought,  
Waiting to be wrote.
When all are
One
Then words caress a page
As wood,
As lead,
As thought,
Join together as one.

oh how they've grown. how i've grown.  time passes in slow motion or in decades at a time.  and oh how they've grown.  how i've grown.  exhaustion lixiviates memories stained with emotion and faded fantasies.  tears leach anguish in oxidized tracks of pain.  and with time comes wisdom, or so it would seem.  because oh, how they've grown. how i've grown.  

privileged emotions
honored with joy, hope, love, pain
in an endless faunt  

oh how they've grown. how i've grown.  inches and miles, torment and smiles, but oh how they've grown. how i've grown.  through time and travels, between the lines and written in bold. oh how they've grown, how i've grown

crossing paths in time
blessed to experience truth
throughout the journey

oh how they've grown. how i've grown.  timeless hearts through the birth of stars.  longing to share time in bits and pieces of eternity to see, oh how they've grown, how i've grown.  and here, in this very moment, growing like weeds in summer, encompassed in the vastness of all things waxing eternal.   

all by leaps and bounds
naked in time standing still
lifetimes in seconds

and oh how they've grown....how i've grown