Id, cognism, ego.

Mind & thoughts, the vault, the passions & ambitions.

The springs, the streams, the rivers.
The atmosphere, the clouds, the rain.
The ocean, the lakes, the puddles.

Feeding into itself, again & again.

It's difficult to explain,
But easy to conceive of,
If you can imagine.

They’d fallen in love
as some young people do—
so that lust might rationally increase.

Their bright, valentine-red-blood fairly beat for love.

It’s good that we can name a thing—
describe it and classify it, so it’s out there,
fact-like, in the flimsy, indefinite poetry-verse

It was a day for it, as the sun, that most followed star,
was a carnotite paintball-splotch against a sky stitched of turquoise
and the quality of the light was sentimentally beyond reproach.

Their gallant love seemed to cast a radiance too, a bright, collateral light, which was of greater reassurance than any by-rote, muttered words.

No one denied the ambition of their love, it was both a mess and a revelation. And no one could pretend the moment was ordinary, that the atoms that spun and gripped our world together weren’t woven yet more inseparable by their union.

The greatest, alas, may choose to bless or deny that such a miracle as love, lasts.
.
.
Songs for this:
Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers
You Can Have It All by Yo La Tengo

The heart shaped piggy bank
rolled down the street.
You waited until the door was open
and then rolled right out.
I slid my last dollar in,
building towards something more
something more than paper-thin
ambition,
a future that includes you,
in some shape or form.

I don’t know how you fell,
or how you got down from the shelf.
Better a dollar bill
than my hand stuck inside you.
I’m glad you didn’t break.
I fed you all my dreams,
all my ambitions.
It’s no wonder you didn’t explode
when you hit the ground,
waiting for something real

Where to store all of my dreams?
So much desire
Yet lacking the means

Many ambitions
Yet so little time
Precarious conditions
Little chance to shine

In desire to create
Shackles bind my mind
What a truly cruel fate

If content is king,
clarity is queen.
Are you brave enough
to rule the world?

Somewhere in the tremor of this monsoon rain
Your heart itched in remembrance
And denial took its hands away from your eyes
and so, you cried,
you cried a mountain of tears
Enough to fill the gardening pots
When you watered your roses
With salted despondency
And the flowers began to wilt
You realized to set these dreams free
But even then, they were too far within
Like the arteries in your chest
Keeping you alive