You treasure hearts
Because they’re easy to love
As long as you keep
Living
I treasure minds
Because they change my world
Long after their hearts stop
Beating

You can’t, if you can’t feel it, if it never
Rises from the soul, and sways
The heart of every single hearer,
With deepest power, in simple ways.
You’ll sit forever, gluing things together,
Cooking up a stew from other’s scraps,
Blowing on a miserable fire,
Made from your heap of dying ash.
Let apes and children praise your art,
If their admiration’s to your taste,
But you’ll never speak from heart to heart,
Unless it rises up from your heart’s space.

Dear Youth of the Millenium, how are you?
What does our legacy mean to you?
We had ideals once, just like you,
Are you selling out to the system too?
Or maybe we just matured, you see,
Or was it the capitalistic economy?
We were the ones who stopped a war!
All ancient history, now times of yore,
Our ambitions we bequeath you, one day,
We hope the universe waits for you, on the way,
A letter to the future, over to you...
What does our legacy mean to you?

Aim for the history book,
Not the magazine.
Be remembered for good,
Not for bad.
Do what you want,
And want what you do.
Make sure people will remember you.

You can change the world,
You just have to believe,
That you are the one,
Who can end poverty.
Be the change you want to see,
Do it all with grace.
Make the world a better place.

Ignore all the insults,
Trust the compliments.
Stay by your family,
Despite the arguments.
Friends will come and go
But family’s forever.
Don’t give up. Never.

The people you miss,
Will be known to you until
The day you die.
If they’re in your head,
They are never dead.
For you keep them alive.
New people will always arrive.

Aim for the history book,
Not the magazine.
For in the end you’ll see,
Success is your ambition,
Never dream of fame.
The answer lies in your heart,
Even if you don’t know how to start.

Nobody talks
of love
thrown into a gutter.*

There is no glory in leaves
rotted to mulch,
turned with dirt.
They drain
and clog.

One look begins our pain,
one sweep ends their suffering.

We attend
at all times
a need to strive
and tend our strife.
To clear the heap,
we burn,

return to ourselves in a corridor of light,
and make do with the bareness of our hands.

The mind follows,
the will carries.
We reach

and let go.
Our smoke
glides the current,

for dreams do not die,
only granted
to the passing-by.

She never spoke but words where embellished upon
her features. Her distressed ink smudged on her white
features marking on ever word painted upon her.

Her purity was now blemished not as it was, but with
ever word discarded on her she became not once before.
voices became stains on every part of her anatomy.

Features were darkened but her visage was scared never
to be as what was before. Words can hurt even become
part of us, but others can stain our purity with just words.

Time trickles down rocky faces.
The world is teetering on the edge of existence,
Its mountains sheared and valleys flooded.
She calls out night and day to ears deafened by
   The gears of progress,
   The clinking of gold,
   And the seductive voices of legacy and permanence.

But time trickles down rocky faces,
Wearing away the marks we fought so hard to leave behind...
There are whispers in the wind,
Echoes in the deep dark unknown:
   Only one thing will endure,
   Only one thing will not weather.

They were lightened by kindness;
For a soul once shown love
Always carries a little warmth
Into the coldness of forever.