Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.

Warm breezes in the night air
Whisper away every nightmare
Stars above in heaven's depths
Blink freely in the dark
Glowing with every promising spark
And during rest in dreams we see
The unreal and our thoughts are set free
To drift and live in sleep
And experience everything so deep
Sometimes waking, wishing you were still there
All that you can do is remember, and keep it near
Unearthly as it seems
Our souls are connected in dreams