I'd travel to the most secluded meadow.
The last one before the mountain steeps and the trees die out amongst the rocks.
Not to swim in the lake or the lesser pond.
But to pull a single flower for you.
What else could exemplify this?
The rarity of your beauty to me?

A million years at least would take
To read them all
Front to back and over again
And yet
If an author paid for every word
It would bankrupt them
Over and over again

Who knows how many they've uttered in darkness?
The mind and mindless penmanship

I cast no stone but the honest truth.
That hypocrisy runs in all of our veins.
Around the inner workings of man.
Yet its our own perception of things which pollutes the mission, the vision, the application.
Blacken my eye and ****** my nose.
What will I do?
What can I do?
When I'm not a stone am I with you?

Everyday
I'm going to take
A step
Further away from her
Until one day
I'm in that good horizon
And she
Is wherever I was back then

The soul so crushed that she dared not dare to dream again.

Always saddens me indefinitely.

Not because I wasn’t the avenue to her success, but because she wouldn’t try and be.

More of her former self around me.

Gawd...
Frost is so good.

Gawd...
Cummings is so good.

Gawd...
Dunbar is so good.

Gawd...
Field is so good.

God, am I
Any good?

Gawd...

The other day
I felt it suddenly
The well of rhymes within my chest
Depleting fast

Like the tides abound
My mind running out
And my words stretched out across the floor

At rest again
In bed again
A mind to start and test again
To beat the passion into a winded horse
I am running like a fumid man

Without a muse
What is a heart?
But a fickle clock to wind and twist

And the temperamental time which takes
Forever still to announce amiss

How powerless am I to keep
The well within a brimming full
For without a willingness within my chest
What is the wind in which I test?

Myself a kite
A puddle out
A museless man in I must invest

I hate being human.
I hate the waiver.
Because the things that I do habitually, aren't even me.
I just learn them.
Slowly.
Steadily.
The learned yet subconscious, Me.

Hold my hands, look into me and see the truth.

Meet me in the deepest part of the glowing forest.

If your heart is there, next of Gondolin, the same as mine.

How beautiful the stars to shine atop our heads.

Like the crowns of old. As the glowing trees ignite your eyes.

As mine have glistened at this very thought.

Perhaps to meet you there at all,

Would make my heart glow as a Silmaril.

For not even I know when this glow was crafted.

Formed out of the unknown and the song.

I wait for you.

Though to Varda your eyes,

And Yavanna your heart may forever belong.

First, our bones and then our homes, with fences soon to follow.
Every stone built wall to turn back to the earth.
Like a grave left open every winter, burying itself within the snow.
No child is left to grow into youth when the world turns back into its own.
A collapse isn't always an inward thing.
Just as the inhabitants aren't always meant to inherent what their parents owned.
No life or existence is completely secure.