What can't my hands hold?
What my head and heart can.
My favourite things are not those that fit in my palm.
It's sun on my face and a sea dip - ice cold.
It's leaving to hike with no route and no plan.
It's loving someone too quick and too soon.
It's laughing so hard that my breath gets stuck.
It's laying beneath a pale white whole moon.
It's believing a little in fate but never in luck.
It's knowing in darkness there's beauty too.
It's believing in nothing and taking comfort in that.
It's in wanting a soulmate but not knowing who.
I'll never desire anything more than a feeling
In my insatiable heart forever to hold.
If it comes with a memory there's nothing more appealing.
To me those things are as good as gold.
A better gold that my hands can't hold.

Come bring the bad news.
And tell me all the ways.
You've been feeling blue.

Rest your head upon.
My shoulders.

As we gaze up at the moon.
The night is dark but there's,
Still light to be seen.

You've got a lot of living.
Left to do.

Can't leave your life.
Up to fate.

Hoping you can change.
The chances of the game.

Your life is in your hands,
My dear.

Like the dark it can play,
At being a trickster too.

For a little while you can.
Rest your worries here.

Underneath the stars so bright.
Till the morning light comes through.

Only then when it appears.
I hope you don't feel blue.

If somehow you do.
I've got enough warmth.
For two.

I forgot to remember,
I remembered to have forgot.

You know the crazy thing about clocks?
Well, eventually,
They all stop ticking.
Like a sun dial,
The gnomon stops
Without light to make shadows.
But the funny thing is,
Time goes on.
Time is a constant.

I remember to forget,
I forget in remembrance.

Is Time despondent?
Is Time ebullient?

Memory. What's it mean to me?
Thoughts. What's it mean to be?

Is Time periodic?
Is Time cyclical?

What I remember
Is all; that I haven't forgetten.

If Time had a name,
They were called Kronos.
If Time has a title,
It is the Ouroboros.

What I forget
Is nothing; that I haven't remembered.

I remember in forgettance.
I forget to have forgot.

Words!
They're something we nearly
All can say,
They're something we share!

Thoughts!
They're something we can all say,
At least nearly;
Every living thing has them!

I think?

I think.

Branched between two oaks
I took it all in
the water, the open breeze
blended it all together
with the feeling of emptiness
and poured it into the ground
where the sun never goes
where things never grow
where the earth is barren
until something splits wide open
maybe it's the ground
or a feeling of living