And as all living things
crumbled before me

I saw the end as it
should never have come

And the guilt of knowing
that I was at fault

That was the end of
love's lie.

Isn't every life
                 Fragile?
Isn't all love
                  Fragile?
Aren't we all
                  Fragile?

And as we're all
                  Fragile,
If hope is so
                  Fragile,
Then how do we
                Survive?

Hope flies beside you as you run,
                                                       a lithe body loping at your side, snarling in delight, protecting.

Hope lies beside you as you sleep,
                                                        a warm creature alive at your side, rumbles with love, protecting.

Hope rides beside you as you love,
                                                         a strange undeniable force of equality, no restraints, protecting.

r u o k?

i c

r u?

ic

r u a q t?

o, o k.

i c.

r u u?

o i c.

i c u,

l i k u c a q t!

o k?!

r u ok?

o, i c.

SometimesIlookoutofthewindow
And                  Iwo            ­   nder
Ifwe                  eve               ndes
Erve                  this               beau
tiful                   pla                netw
Edidnothingtoearn,andtrytolooka
Tev      ­             ery                thing
Alit                   tleb               itdiffe
Ren                   tlyt               hanI'd
Bee                   nta                 ught
AllmylifeonthiswonderfuloldEarth

Do you ever wonder
                                  If there's love left on this Earth?

Do you ever wonder
                                  If it's been drained of mirth?

Do you ever wonder
                                  Why the world is cold and still?

Do you ever wonder
                                   Why winter lovers catch a chill?

Do you ever wonder
                                   When an adult becomes "old"?

Do you ever wonder
                                   When children grow so bold?

Do you ever wonder
                                  How skies became so grey?

Do you ever wonder
                                  How a mockingbird's young play?

Do you ever wonder?
                                  Of this I cannot see.

But I know you'll never wonder
                                                     How much you love me.

They seem so lazy,
As if aimlessly wandering.

In reality,
They are searching.

For the blooms,
With the power to save their family.

And in a single breath,
They would sacrifice themselves.

For the well-being of the hive,
But never a single flower.

Always they scheme,
Plotting to find the best blossoms.

The best sustenance,
To give life to the hive that raised each bee.

But however beautiful and sweet,
The bees will never sacrifice themselves for a flower.

And I wonder,
As they sting me and I cry out at my pain and their deaths.

I wonder if perhaps,
The birds and the bees aren't too different at all.

First the child, who squeals at the foaming waves and sniffs the salt in the air, distracted and amazed by the colours of the sand.
Then, the teen, trying to hide carefree bliss behind hair fondled by the sea breeze.
Suddenly, the proud parent, presiding over all and remembering the days when they were but a child theirself.

First the child, clutching their plastic ***** and diving into the soft, scorching powder.
Then, the teen, who sighs in apparent derision whilst hiding the longing to play.
Suddenly, the exhausted parent, buried and towed and made to inspect various pits of faith.

First the child, clumsily scooping handfuls of damp, soothing grains.
Then, the teen, sighing and crouching to help whilst decreeing helping is not "playing".
Suddenly, the knowing parent, catches the eyes of them both and nods a nod of serenity.

First the child, studding twisted shells like wavering mountains dotted across a globe by a clumsy god.
Then, the teen, rolling their eyes as they arrange a symmetrical formation of emotion.
Suddenly, the grinning parent, watching as two formidable castles become a fortress of hope.

And then?

The tide

Took them all

Away

And the castle's glittering flag washed calmly against the shore.

Until

The child

Could come

Again

And there it waits still...next to the misshapen lump of sand that was once a fortress of dreams.

It seems to me
That the most beautiful people
Are not the ones who do not mock ugliness in others

But delude themselves
That none rests in them

If we all blame each other
For the things we could have
Would have
Should have done
Then how
Is there
A hope in hell that
Anything will ever get done?