We're drowning in our own thoughts
We're self obsessed and have high expectations
Remember nothing we aim for will ever reach perfection
But it can sure reach your own definition
Your own definition of greatness

I think one thing about love at first sight, Is you do not truly see the whole person, but the beauty their soul holds. and if you both feel the same way, you long to become the greatness you see in each other

Her eyes hold the stories of nations,
As old and wrinkled as they are.
They glimmer with the fight of a people,
A people who made it very far.

A people who fought for independence,
A people who bled, sweated and cried.
A people who refused to be redundant,
A people who for, many men and women died.

A people who tasted civilisation,
A people who fell to natures final call.
A people who gained some freedoms,
And kept on until they had gained them all.

A people whose names are set in history,
A people made immortal by the pen.
A people who create our mythology,
All these people thought useless back then.

Her eyes hold the stories of nations,
As old and wrinkled as they are.
They glimmer with the fight of our people
We people who made it very far.

On every side was a wall of mesh
And in the middle she sat
What is out there beyond these walls? She wondered.
What if her visions of the world outside were false?
She was caged

She grew tired of her little house
What if I could get on the other side?
What if my wings were made not to only beautify?
She wondered

One push and her mesh house gave way
She stepped out and was greeted by the sunrays
Then she slipped, for her house was high up in a tree
She was falling; this must be the end of me
She cried

Suddenly, she noticed others with wings like hers
Why weren't they falling, crying?
Then she saw why and so she spread her wings
And for the first time she flapped them
She flew

And so began a new life for her
The world she dreamed of was right before her
She found herself, she found her wings, she learned to fly
She lived her dream, she soared up high
She was free

There's a very fine line between
Weirdness and Greatness...

And often the transition
Is undetectable.

Sometimes you don't give up for yourself
But for the people who never gave up on you

We all believe in something great that we will witness,
In this sea of hopeful people, everybody's got the sickness.

I'm not the only one who wants a way out; we all want to be free.
There's no cure this far down, we've got the dreamer's disease .

I always pick the broken ones, cuz I am broken too.*

I look to the ones with damaged bones,
beat down,
broke down,
weathered.
Hoping where our pieces broke that they might fit together.

When you only have two halves of hearts,
You'd assume they'd make a whole,
But lying in bed next to you,
I've never felt less of my soul.

I guess you have to try and find,
Your other half all on your own.
Because you know it started out with you,
But then you gave it out on loan.

You can't seem to remember,
Who now has it in their hands.
There were a lot of faceless broken ones,
And they all look the same in the stands.

But you learn how to make a house a home,
Even when you aren't there.
To surround yourself with greatness,
And only those who care.

It's harder than it seems to sound,
But you'll get there,
You'll find a way.
And you'll wish the best for the broken ones,
Because you were just them yesterday.

Above woodland birds  .  .  .
Feathered cloud on mountain top,
  .  .  .  Eagle lands on spruce.