I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys
Goodbyes are an end, a final, a limit
Goodbyes are terminus
An eradication
I believe there is no proper end

We are cemented within a cycle
A continuum
A never-ending relationship with the world
A flowing river out of your control
Goodbyes imply permanence
A life that never changes
A dormancy  

But Reality has it
You cannot fully control your goodbyes
A person can reenter your life and leave
Over and over and over
Then maybe goodbyes don’t even exist
People can exist in our memories
A perpetual reminder
A video stuck on replay
A beautiful hazy dream
I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys

If people continue to touch our lives
Leaving a lasting impact
A reason why
Then maybe goodbyes don’t even really exist
Because there is no such thing as a goodbye
Because there is no end to relationships
Because there is no end to memories
Because there is no end to love
Because there is no end to the feeling you have

We are cemented within a cycle
A continuum
And this is why I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys

Let’s embrace the idea
Yet see its amusing foolishness
Because maybe goodbyes don’t even exist

A body
three times
renewed

The soil remembers
each flower that bloomed
and died upon it,
each drop of blood,
each insect,
each fruit,
and carries these beloved ghosts
within it,
waiting for new life.

Lucid dreams of what could have been; another world or time, the difference staggeringly saddening. The time to find the means to an end goes too fast to comprehend it all as it comes. It floods the brain, the mind and heart. Overwhelming circumstance: motivation lost. Exacerbation kills creativity altogether; and the cycle repeats. I’m lost.

Run, rat, run.
Though you don’t know where to
or what from.

Live, love,
fly, die.
A cyclical life we all live by.

Disorientedly
caught in the streams
of others’ hopes and dreams.

I have inhaled the air of countless cities
and left some of mine behind.

My distinct fingerprints are invisible
but they exist
in a place amidst many others
on tables and handles everywhere.

My voice had probably made someone turn
and wonder what type of a person I was.
Do I sound happy because I am
or is it a mere façade I have covered the truth with?
It will leave them pondering over the masks we wear.

Lipstick stains on coffee mugs
Kissing the worries goodbye
they flutter away into thin air
and become someone else's instead.

Eyes darting to the clouds above,
that water was once down here in the sea
but now it is above hovering over me.

Like snakes shed their skin,
and dead matter turns to trees
we leave a part of ourselves
on dusty shelves
for others to recover and use

the cycle goes on.

As you get older, you come to understand the economics of age.

You go through a cycle you see.

When you were new , you had  energy,
You developed, a state of Growth.
You reached your prime,
Your life was booming, a state of Prosperity.
- You were young

But eventually as time goes by,
Your hair begins to go, a Recession.
You're upset a lot, a Depression.
Your metabolism slows down,
Your stomach, It's bloated,
You're experiencing high levels of inflation.
- You are old.

And finally you understand that  you were just a loan that the world took out from the Banks of Life.
All loans must be repaid.
- You are going to die.

**** and crow
In effervescent snow
As Old Man Winter his north wind blows,

Gives way to the fair Maiden of Spring,
With no more lingering
As flowers sing

In warming sun,
Ever-growing life begun,
And Summer his own course doth run;

Leaves on trees
Then fall in the breeze,
As Autumn reaches rich life to seize

To give to Old Man Winter for chilling blow,
Quick death from below
As ***** yet crow;

But Spring, she waits thru snow to burn,
And the flowers return;
So seasons churn.