As the moon rises
My memory becomes clearer
Standing right here at the dusk
My heart becomes my feelings' mirror.

As the time passes  
The youth in me begins to rebel  
As I approach the midnight  
My pulse rise as well.  

Midnight memories and the moon,
As my eyes shed tears
I sail across the sea of memory  
Walk across the dunes of sorrow
Endure the pain to which there's no recovery.

As I look into the infinite skies
I ask myself and the world within me
"Why do I exist in such a dreadful place?"  
As I look down towards the earth  
An answer bubbles up within me
"Because you have a purpose."  

As the moonlight touch my scars  
They begin to have a melody of melancholy  
A pain felt, a memory recalled and my heart cried...  
As the moon reaches it's peak,  
I realize and feel the very skin I'm wrapped with and the energy it holds.

As the night begins to descend  
I see a shadow of someone lost long ago
Yet strives to find a way back to the soul.

As the sun begins to rise
So does the hope within me
But the world will remain the same  
And so will my memories.
Experiences are something valuable
But nothing teaches me a lesson like  
Midnight memories and the moon.  

-Ikigai Poet

Whatever turns to whenever after paint is applied to the heart. Can eyes really mentor coulors that seek a place suitable for art.

I want to change a plain season by repeating history so my tales can be "twice upon a time", I have an invisible mountain to climb...perfect moments leave trails of emotions in sync, I followed my heart when it was taller and bigger than me.
l could only follow without any sight of what is afar because my heart was too soft  to run into obstacle.

I could only follow without any sight of what is afar because my heart was too soft  to run into obstacle. At some very sharp and sad point my heart hardened and that's were I saw "forever" and "one last time" holding hands.

I want to win a plain season because nothing fades.

There are bits of me I wish the world not see
My darkness that glimmers in a full moon’s glowing
My light that beams onto an oceans calmness
When honest love comes knocking, wanting to know what haunts me
I am shied away of all wanting to know my graveyard of echos
The phantom of memories that never seem to fade away
In my twilight, they decay
You’ve brought my graveyard to life
My phantoms now buried heavy within
My darkness to brilliance
A fragment of myself I was never proud of, now ignites
Thank you for showing me the light

Sitting at the laundromat
watching the basins turn.
Just like the basins,
the earth continues on its own axis in a similar fashion.

Another day goes by,
again once more,
one without passion.

Just dull revolutions
seemingly the same
but wait,
The basin stopped..the basin stopped

The stars never shined so bright
Until you were on their other side
Now here I sit on lonely nights
Winding back the clock to a time
When stars didn't shine so bright

You were mine
You were my words and my thoughts
The whisper in my ear
Singing to me a song only I was blessed enough to hear
But the melody faded,
Dissipated into nothing but a hum
Now I dully strain to make the song remain
Yet it has grown so quiet
That when I try, all I hear is rain

Dark days come along,
When the air blows feathered knives.
They stab the flesh of wanderers,
Who pass through uniform lives.

Walking in calamity, the same route
Each melancholy night.
The cold air dances like feathers
Yet their lives do not take flight.

For on these nefarious nights,
Corruption bleeds down.
Stains the sheets of gloomy virtue,
Gives the night his crown.

The smell of solemn occasion,
The pinch of frozen sky,
The midnight shades of insomnia,
The wind that whispers "Why?"

We blindly type out of memorization,
We blindly write from practiced habit,
We blindly skip paragraphs, ignore articles, and pensively print upon the line without realization of what we’re saying at all.
We never truly see,
We deteriorate out of muscle memory
Absently offering an embrace neglecting to fully eyes-closed experience the wonderfulenss of it at all.
We go through the motions,
Dwelling in our minds straining its relation to our souls,
We no longer act in love,
But the muscle memory of it.
We look, but don’t truthfully see,
We touch, but forget to truly feel,
We hear, but we no longer listen,
We have flesh, yet we are merely programmed.
Advanced, but empty,
Knowledge unimaginable, yet still lacking,
Right, left, up, down, but do we realize the palpability and tenderness of the action?
Or are we too much on automatic?
In over drive,
That we forget to live out the littlest things and realize them to the fullest