I stopped.
My feet rested on the cool cement, and I listened.
Every tree, every bush, was whispering.
It started as a murmur, and grew.
Soon it was as if every forest in the world was talking, talking, whispering, whispering.
The voices faded for a moment, but it was not silent, for someone else was speaking.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
The rain was speaking to me.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.
No, it was not speaking, it was singing.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whizz. Drip. Drop. Whizz.
All around me it was swirling and falling and rising again to continue the song.
The trees had joined the song again.
Now it was as if they shouted their song with the rain.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Then, in a moment, the heavens broke open and a downpour of music flooded the earth where I stood.
The music ran.
It danced.
It rushed under my feet and all around me it sang.
I looked down at my feet and saw they were moving.
I looked up and the world swirled around me again and again.
I was dancing.
The rhythm of the music moved me with the waters and I flew with it.
I whirled around and around and around.
My heart flew with the music.
Through the whispering trees, through the rain in the air.
I danced and danced, unashamed and unaware of the world around me.
And then, as quickly as it had started, it began to stop.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Whisper. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Whizz.
Drip. Drop.
Drip. Drop.

Slowly, gently, I lean over and wrap my arm about her waist.
Her skin is soft and warm,
As tan as the sand of the sea shore.
She leans her head against my shoulder.
Smooth locks of rich brown hair cascade down her shoulders and lay against my neck.
I look into eyes as green as the grass and the leaves of the trees.
I feel as if I am staring into a forest of adventure, wonder, discovery, excitement.
Thoughts are racing through my mind; but as I look into those eyes, so deep and pure
I think only of her. Of my love for her. Of my desire to be with her forever.
I move, she moves, as if the same voice told us to lean in at the same moment.
Those soft, beautiful lips are against mine.
They are as red as the purest rose, a faint smell of mint fills my senses; telling me this is real.
I reach out and lay my work-roughened hand on top of her slender fingers.
They are so small, so delicate, so beautiful. I think to myself.
Without a single flaw, they remind me of the elegance of the very first cherry blossom,
As it slowly lifts its head to the sun and shows off its radiance.
And then she is speaking. Her voice dips and flows like the sweetest melody.
Her silvery laugh rings out like chimes in the wind.
I could hold her for hours, feeling her in my arms, listening to that sweet-as-honey voice.
The sun slowly fades into the west, suddenly filling the sky with every hue and color.
It’s time. slowly, I get down on one knee and pull a small box from my pocket.
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me” I find myself saying
“And I cannot imagine life without you. My love, will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
That one word. Yes. She said yes. That means she is mine.
My Beach.
My Forest.
My Flower.
My Melody.
My Love.
My Life.

Fading stars
Hazy gray
Soft feet creeping
Wait for light of day
Blazing colors warm the skin
Silently.
Blinding sphere of light rise up
Brilliantly.
Waiting calm
Breeze and trees.
Sing-song
Feathers light.
Snap.
A branch
The crunch of leaves.
Dainty-quiet
As you please.
Silk-smooth fur
Soft brown eyes
Looking up.

Slender and graceful
Do I dare?
Need to survive
Tender and tasteful
Deep breath
Ready.
Focus. Concentration.
Aim.
Steady now, not a sound.
Explosion.

A painted face
Eyes shining brightly
Crisp white gloves
Hiding hands
Rose red lips
A perfect smile
Clothes all black
Brilliant contrast
Walking and dancing
Moving just right
Laughing and crying
Silent
And I can’t help but wonder
Who is the one behind the painted face

What now, lies within it?
A treasure, rose bud.
Shining bright, waiting quiet
He knows, he wants, he craves.

Where then, can he find it?
She holds the key, my dear.
Raven haired, longing eyes
She waits, she longs, she hopes.

How now, shall he go about it?
With subtlety, bright daisy.
Soft whispers, muttered name
A house, a place, a smile.

How then, shall he reach it?
By cleverness, sweet child.
Key turns, door opens
The light, the night, the moon.

How nigh, shall he find it?
Through stealth, gentle babe.
Soft step, floating shadow
A box, a lock, a snap.

How heard, shall he escape it?
No escape, darling mine.
She gasps, he turns
Their eyes, their fears, their hearts.

What then, he does not hurt her?
Souls meet,  Butterfly.
Her kiss, his lust
In love, in dark, in moaning.

Sweet romance! Do they know it?
Love triumphs, soft angel.
Passion burns, a lantern falls
Their fire, their ash, their death.

No! Why? Could they not fight it?
Don’t fight, sunshine
True love, to die there
So whole, so perfect, so destined.

But wait, what of the box?
Fear not, mine daughter.
Look inside, to find only
Their love.

In the farthest corner of the western sky, golden rays glide down the horizon line and slip into the ground: hiding their splendor till the morrow shall bring their rebirth. The depths of the night seep into the heavens, dousing the expanse with stardust and blinking lights. Shadows lurk under every tree and creep their way into the atmosphere. But to the east, a new night is just beginning. At the base of the mountain range, a subtle candle glow starts to rise from behind the centinal stones and intensifies their monumental silhouettes. As Earth continues her drowsy journey around her axis, the Moon sidles out of his hiding spot and peeks above the horizon.
Somehow, he is different tonight. Rather than launching himself high into the expanse and bathing the terrain with silvery shafts; he stays along the boundary between ground and sky. His sunken frame is wrinkled and pock marked; with the shades of musty old parchment emanating from his surface. He is an ancient manuscript: the literature of a thousand poets and songwrites. Time itself is scribed into his pages and endless mysteries are buried within those yellowed folds. His weary bones tire of holding up the vast sky night after night, giving away his light and energy to all around him. So, just for tonight, he abandons his post, creeping down towards Earth to catch a glimpse of her ever-young radiant beauty and diversity. As he comes in toward her, growing larger to her sight, her textured surface looks close enough to touch. His raspy breath on her delicate skin. His heart aches to drink of her glistening waters and be renewed.
But as he leans in for a drink of her life: he is struck with a startling awareness. Corruption and deceit have manifested themselves within her miles. Pain and blood and cries ring out through the night; swallowing up what peace should have been there with the desperation of their pleas. Children and forests of creatures sink to their graves unseen as the mighty ones among them submit to the will of their greed. The Earth, with her intoxicating scent of ten thousand flowers and fruits and churning waterfalls of hair cascading down her mountainous shoulders, turns her savannah golden eyes toward her dear old friend. His affectionate gaze is filled with heartbreak as she pulls from her own dwindling stores of energy and ever so briefly gives him a frosty caress to lighten his load. The crisp air fills his lungs and the tingle of snowflakes lingers on his cheek as he brushes a tear from her sun kissed nose and climbs back to his place in the sky, once again shining silver and strong.
And if you look up into the sky tonight, you will see, there he remains; constantly making his journey round and round his love, sheltering her from the outside. Shedding his shafts of teary moonlight at the suffering she so patiently endures.

All the rays of a summer sunset cascade into the atmosphere in flowing locks, falling onto the shoulders of a sandy beachfront: blinding in its’ fair complexion. Ocean eyes pierce the landscape with their tantalizing aqua gaze. Freckles and marks of sea shells and silky smooth pebbles dot the surface of the porcelain skin shore, bringing a thousand stories of each one’s journey to the surface of the water. A warm breeze glides over the waves, creating a sing-song lullaby that lilts into a bold melody. As it rolls across sea and shore, it comes to the edge of the forest, where it meets the ears of the woodland creatures. Jade green leafy eyes gaze with brazen admiration upon this sunshine goddess, who focuses her gaze, in turn, on the woods. The forest’s dark, luscious locks wrap around the trees and sway in the wind. The cool, shaded, earthy skin teams with freckled flowers and scars of fallen trees. Her breezy laugh rustles with the leaves and calls back to the sea.
I am the forest, deep and dark and full of life.
She is my ocean, bright and warm and teaming with beauty.
She drinks me in with those watery eyes, shining deeper than the stars. Her glowing tresses blind me with their splendor as I bask in their rays. I stretch out a branch and caress her silky skin as she whispers into my soul. A wave of love laps into my thirsty soil, and I shower her with petals and their perfumes. We strain upward, reach out, and entwine. We are dancing. It is a reckless, desperate dance of crashing waves, falling trees, roaring winds and screeching songbirds. Our laughing voices shake the ground into a whirlwind of passionate adventure. Shadows and light beams meld into a tapestry as we glide above the surface of the water, through the treetops and into the stardust... forever hand in hand with my darling, my love, my sunset, my beach.

I have been misplaced. I wander through a wilderness of population and insanity. To be lost in the woods is a blessing; a thrilling adventure full of serenity and life. But to find oneself entangled in this city? I cannot stand it. Traffic rages around me: an ever present roar of engines and anger. The harsh, whining lights glare off dusty blacktop and blot out the stars that once calmed my soul. Glazed eyes are made aware of my presence, yet do not recognize the human being behind my body. I am simply a face. An object. Something to be honked at, passed over, jostled out of the way. Stone faces and cinder block hearts are hidden behind streetlight stares shut up in mansions of separation. Fear, depression, anxiety and violence run rampant on the streets as each individual loses all hope of community in the rage of the crowd. We are lost. Fallen to the dark madness that screams for our attention and consumes our minds. Media is hurled at these overstimulated children till they crack under the weight of it all. And I stand here, digging my toes into the only scraggly patch of earth to be found, watching the bricks crumble around me. Each one is a face. A soul. A story. They have succumb to the city and fallen in the ash heap. The child within has been starved to death; and a stone faced stranger is all that remains.
I do not belong here! Can you not see? I am a child of wind and woodlands: an imp who dwells in trees and caverns and mountain tops. I run with the rivers and laugh in the rain. With calloused feet and muddy toes; bruised knees and a thousand tiny scars carrying stories. My hair is tangled in leaves and twigs, and my sun kissed nose lies between ruddy, wind burned cheeks. I have a tribe. My very own clan of fellow adventurers. Shall I forsake our union and abandon my family for this beauty depraved land? Our hearts have been melded together, and are now being ripped apart by brute force. I cannot bear it. I am not strong enough to hold all the desperate fragments together. Please, I beg of you. Let me go home.

Hopeful eyes, darting and piercing about the terrain, strain to depict a clear scene through the flurry of snow dancing and sparkling in the crisp morning light. Glistening lips exhale a puff of warm breath into the icy sky, leaving a cloud of whispers and songs trailing through the vast expanse of atmosphere. Ruddy cheeks, sprinkled with freckles and the shadow of holy kisses, glow a soft pink as a prancing wind caresses the rosy skin. That same wind throws a mess of wildly curling locks, dark as a chocolate fountain, into an unashamed dance as they bounce and jolt with every twist and step. The cascade seems it's own living being, the way it flies just behind those hopeful features, always a step behind, yet perfectly in time with the song that pours from those tender lips. Two small feet, safely nestled in their snug boots, tingle with the sensation of each step as they flit down a snowy path, looping round and round, lost in the sway and rhythm of the music that now swirls with the flakes. A heart, locked in safety, beats wildly against the bars holding it in place. A flash of memory sails through a beautiful mind: a memory of that heart, twisted, blackened and cracked. That mind was polluted, small wrists bore the scars of the pain within, bleeding out. It was a season of darkness, pain, fear and loneliness. But that was then. The weight of the now golden heart is almost too much to bear. Two desperate lungs burn with each breath, sweating palms are strained with clutching a pile of books to a heaving *****. Dancing feet are stilled; jade green eyes pierce the heavens with their gaze, searching for someone in an eternal expanse. For the briefest of moments, a glimpse of His splendor is seen. His whisper in the wind, His spirit in the snow. His imprint on the ground, His fond gaze resting upon the source of his affection. As His bride glides on down the path, the soul within is bathed with light, joy, and hope; full beyond measure by the knowledge it holds. She is His. I am Yours.

Slow. Steady. Rhythmic.
The dull thud beats in time with the sway and cantor of the melody. Glide across the hall, dip down to the banister.
Beat. Beat. Beat.
Even and calm, lost in the frequency, wandering amidst the pitch. Fanciful footwork frames the floor with twisting steps and intricate detail.
Shrouded in fireflies and dandelion dust that drifts on the lazy current of the song, drowsing through notes and harmonies in a trance of ballroom dance.
Rise up.
Build into a waltz of throbbing desire. Whirl in the stars and flit past treetops. Even and clean, again and again and again.
Search the woods with craving eyes and fixate a longing gaze on the shadows of the mountains. The horizon will bleed into the treeline as melancholy keys and jubilant echos bring a cobalt stare reeling round and round the surface of the planet.
Press out each measure with deliberate punctuation.
Step hard, flit away, step firm, pull in, step true, twirl out, step in, dip low.
The march of feet in sync resonating through soul and mind: rhythm, measure, beat.
Soar.
Rush the pace into a frenzied tango. Alight a tender foot on the raindrops and fly into the moonlight as the throbbing repetition drives the dance onward.
Hear the wail of the drums in the atmosphere; they cry out in agony, ever increasing intensity. Pound out the steps over and over, numb to the world.
Bring the reckless mind crashing down upon the orchestra pit. Flood heart and soul with sheets of music dripping with pen strokes of madness and ingenuity.
Heaving, writhing, panting, burning, pounding, crashing, yearning heart be free.
You stop short, gasping for breath, ears peaked by a new sound. Another beat. You swipe the wild strands of hair from your eyes and find yourself a butterfly’s breath away from a brand new heartbeat. His sandpaper skin brushes your fingertips, chocolate eyes melting into your dance. You twirl out, he catches your milky wrist and dips you into his lullaby. Spinning in, two songs forge into one as pounding fades to throbbing. The voice of the lark rises in your throat, a jade sky splits the earth in two, and you fly away. Dancing to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

You stand on the shoreline, watching the wild waves endlessly pound the earth and dash against the rocks. The rolling hills churn and crash in an eerie expanse of green and gray foaming depths. An endless sky grows darker and more foreboding by the second. Thunder rolls in the distance; you still refuse to leave. Your voice comes softly, and is ripped away by the wind, tossed out over the waters.

“Come back to me. I need you. I want you. Don't go!”

Ahhh... But I, sir, do not need you. The mighty ocean rumbles and groans, letting out wails and angered cries as she throws herself at the beach, the dock house, the cliff side, anything she can reach. The wind screams down the valley, shrieking her battle cry as she rips trees to pieces, blinding you with her rage. The pent-up malice of the heavens comes crashing down upon the terrain. Lightning bolts strike the crested waves again and again, charging her on in her decimation. With a shout from above, her tears break free from the clouds and careen towards the earth. They saturate every crevice and cranny with all the loathing of the air. You are deafened by the sounds of devastation around you, blown and beaten to your knees on the jagged rocks;
pounded and soaked by the anger and contempt so clearly seen in the eye of the storm. Desperate to preserve your own life; so suddenly at great risk, you call out.

“What have I done to deserve this? All that has transpired, I have done out of love!”

NO! Not a love for me, but a want for yourself. You spoke of honor and protection. You made false promises: to stay by my side, to sacrifice for me. But our actions will always speak the truth of our heart’s motives. And so, when you began to depend on me for fulfillment, to act possessive and controlling, I broke free from your craving grasp. You drive me out with your own selfish needs.

A wall of raging water rises from the bed of the sea, building into a mountain that blocks the sky from view. It charges toward the shore, gaining speed, power and determination, refusing to doubt or draw back. Even as your executioner rides towards you, in your ignorant hope you will not budge. Seconds before I smite you with my fury, obliterating you from my heart and mind forever, I whisper in your ear; “Your fatal mistake, my lover, was when you thought you could control the sea in all her glory, or hold back the storm she is.”

These walls are ringing with laughter
They are drenched in tears and soaked in pain
They sigh with the weight of a lifetime of memories
They are saturated with stories and songs
They breath the cry of a baby; the lilt of a father’s voice
These wall are stained with struggle, scratched and dented with trials and feuds.
They cling to the paint that peels away to expose the mold of mistakes made
Fractured and cracked tiles tried to reconcile and found forgiveness in the art of their flaws.
Creaking stairs groan with the desperate prayers that shattered the air in the depths of despair and brought healing.
The ceiling is reeling with the feeling of kneeling before the King as one member and crying out:
This is our house. Our home: where Satan will roam no longer and we are made stronger as we sing to the King as family.
Now here I stand, my hand memorizing the land I was raised in. Each grain, divot and angle is a sliver of my mind. I am frozen in time as I rewind through the blinds and find myself near the kitchen shelf, where food no longer lingers. My fingers scan the sink: I think of how we'd drink straight from the faucet, my mom's voice yelling “stop it!”
Dissonant notes drift from the phantom piano in my mind. A child's hands land on the ivory, making chords and strands of a melody. She turns to grin at her feat as loving parents treat her to praise for her serenade. The crackle of flames as we played board games, waves of heat to beat the winter cold and bold flecks of snow flying with our dice on the carpet. A cry upstairs leads to pairs of frightened eyes in the dark of night. Pattering feet make a hasty retreat to the safety of daddy's strong arms and mommy’s protection from harm between the blankets and pillows. A golden sunrise leads to adventures outside; trees to climb and bikes to ride, mermaids and cowboys, escaped slaves and so many toys. Rustling leaves shed buds of green; lapping waves on sandy beaches, sunshine days full of ice cream with peaches. A million laughs and a thousand hugs, cake in the bath with a bubble filled tub. Sights and sounds and smells of the past, and I'm the last to feel this memory so real. Grazed walls and scratched floors full of knicks and dents meant to tell stories and prevent us from forgetfulness. I soak in the lifetime of love that's been lived inside these four walls as I walk down the hall. I'm here at the door for the last time it seems. This whole dreadful process feels like a bad dream as the seams of my mind strain to drag out the time. But the tick of the clock resounds as the lock clicks and my life is quickly drug away to lay in the way of another child who will play in this place. And in my mind, these walls I have loved all my life have just crumbled and fallen and died.

Who am I?
A whispering babe amidst ten thousands shouts and screams of bloodthirsty warriors.
The gentle nudging of a fawn's tender nose against the brazen rack of her father’s antlers.
I am a wayward summer breeze, getting lost in the winds of a hurricane.
A single drop of wine thrown into a sea of water, longing to be tasted on your lips, untraceable in this vast expanse.
I am every blazing sunrise you slept  through and never got the chance to cherish.
I am each tree left unclimbed, each trail you never turned aside to explore.
I am the waters too deep for your shallow lungs to reach; the ocean floor you only dream of.
I am the tip of every mountain this planet has forced up from the depths: and though you know it is impossible, a hidden part of you longs to stand atop each one of them. That is me.
I am the secret locked in the crystals of a snowflake; and no two hold the same treasure.
I am the hidden variance of a delightful scent in every flower petal.
I am the countries, cultures and corners of
The earth you have never seen or known.
Any time you glimpse a view of the galaxies and ponder to whom this splendor belongs, it is my eyes you gaze at.
Each moment you spend longing for something more, yet not knowing what, is a piece of me in you.
I am so much more than a feeling.
So much more than a though.
I am necessity.
I am your audacity.
I am a force to be reckoned with; something that lingers in your soul long after the music has ceased to resonate.
I am the wailing cry of the heart of humanity: the voice that every mind screams, yet every ear is deaf to.
There is, always has been, and forever will be an inherent need for me. For without me, all of creation would fade away. Without exploration, discovery, and mystery, we would surely perish.
So here I am: pounding on the walls around your spirit with desperate, bloodied fists, begging to be let in. I will persist. I will prevail. Because it is essential. You need me more than the very air you breath, whether you should ever realize it or not. Because without me, you can go about your life alive- but not living.
Who am I?
I
Am
Wanderlust.

I have days of light... days when the sun shines with splendor, highlighting the majesty of the mountain range. A warm gusty wind barrels across the open prairie, sweeping locks of auburn hair across my face and touching my heart with the knowledge that I am completely, painfully alive.  These are the days when I am awed at how quickly love can blossom in one's life, and I hold this fragile, young, new love with hopeful tenderness. I stand captivated by this beautiful existence that I have been ****** into, and embrace the explorative adventure that lies in front of me. These are the days that tell me to keep on living.
I have days of darkness... days when any sliver of hope is so far beyond my reach, I cannot muster the energy to strive for it. Days that leave me yearning for all things familiar; the comfort of being surrounded by those who know every broken piece of me, sometimes better than I know myself. I am swallowed by a darkness so thick, every star is blotted out before me. And I stumble: longing to trace my fingers across the grooves of an oak tree I have carved into my mind since childhood. These are the days that leave me weeping in the shadows, pounding bloodied fists on a door that will no longer open to me.
These roiling emotions as different as night and day themselves. There are days that I am more alive than I have ever been; and days when death itself would be less painful. But through every single one, I cling to my only constant: and that is the goodness of my God.
Yes, he is faithful and just. I know his mercy endures across the ages, his steadfast love never fails. I am promised that his plans for me are to prosper, and not to harm. These are wonderful truths; but this is not what sustains me. The truth is,
He is worthy.
He is worthy of so much more than I could ever offer; and so the least I can do is give him all of me. Today may be a day of darkness, but I worship in brokenhearted joy, knowing that the light of the world dwells within me. I am learning to let that daylight out.

Your heart is so big. The capacity within it; seemingly endless. It is filled with caverns, rooms, channels and layers. Stories and ideas, songs and poems, memories soaked in pain yet dipped in beauty. Whispers and giggles and shrieks and howling and melodies and moans all resonate in the halls and leak through on the wind. I stand, gazing at this labyrinth that is you. And there is an adventurous part of me that aches to explore its depths; to know every variety of yourself within. I approach, grimacing as I reach out one hand, and hesitantly knock on the gate of its great walls. My breath is held; hoping for acceptance, dreading rejection. I know you may not wish to, but you must share all this with someone. Have you heard what happens to those who refuse to open their doors? To trust? They barricade themselves in this endless mansion and become lost within. They are alone. And when they walk into a dark room and the door closes behind them, no one is there to hear their cries; to open the door and pull them back into the light. That is why I have been sent to you. The keeper of your heart has searched me and known my ways. He has deemed me not only worthy of your trust, but necessary. So please, let me in. Open the gates. As each second ticks by, slower than the last, I begin to fear I have been shunned. This is my calling. My purpose. My own heart has finally had the doors flung open, the walls torn down, and the contents are flooding out; a raging hurricane of myself finally set free. I need somewhere for that flood of me to go. If I try to hold it in any longer, I will burst: shatter. Please! Take my love! I will trade you. I beg you for your burdens. I long for your loneliness. I will share your scars and love your longing. Let. Me. In. At last, movement. The rusted gates groan in protest as they are forced open after so many years of stoic rejection: standing unmoved. They grate far enough apart for me to squeeze through and dart inside. I am met by endless corridors, vast hallways lined with doors leading to every emotion, experience and thought you have ever dwelt on. Golden rays of sunshine behind one door, a forest full of giggles and children and innocence. I run and laugh with those sweet young faces, caressed by the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. Behind the very next door, I am plunged into a blackness deeper than a clouded night. I fall into a deep pit, landing on jagged rocks and shards of broken hopes. Crouched in the corner, trembling and alone, with tear streaks down their face, is you. My heart swells in my chest, and I know: this is the moment for which I have been prepared. I kneel before you, taking your cold hands in my own. Our Father wants you to come home now. Follow me. You are terrified; I see it in your frantic glances. But here, I have something that will help. I am entrusting you with my own heart, here in the depths of your own. Let the hope I have received be a light in this darkness. Let my trust and vulnerability inspire your own. I couldn't hold it back anymore even if I wanted to. And with that, the last piece of my wall crumbled down. An outpouring of love, peace, joy and hope flooded the pit, filling it to overflowing. We sailed out into the sunlight, hand in hand. As we ran into the meadow, our eyes looked up and locked with the Father’s. And as we were swept into his embrace, our hearts were made whole for the first time. I glanced at you, my kin, hopefully expectant of the life we would share: in the light.

My precious little boy, what has you so troubled? It is late, terribly late. In fact, at this point I think we can say it is early. We are both exhausted and in much need of sleep; yet you insist on bashing my thoughts into the wall of my cranium even now. I know it hurts, my dear. I feel the aches and pain as sharp and clear as you do. That hollow, wracking sound clinking around under you? That just where my heart goes, ***; don't worry about it. Listen, I love a good riddle just as much as the next guy: but now is not the time to solve the one of our topsy-turvy life, ok? Alright then. So why don't you climb down off that wall and tuck in till the sunshine shows her face again?
Oh my foolish child, you won't ever listen to anyone but yourself. Well, if you are going that direction anyhow, be sure and give everyone my love. That's the beautiful thing about you, sweet pea. You are comprised of memories; ones where all those whom I cherish are still in my life and arms and eye. So, like I said, if you insist on visiting them all right now, just make sure those perfect moments get a proper greeting. Oh... I have to come with you... that's right. Well, it can't be helped I suppose, but you should know that I couldn't get my heart to sleep either with all her crying; we’ll just have to bring her with since she's still up. Come on you two, let's get this over with so we can all get some shut-eye. Hold my hands now, and whatever happens: don't get lost here!