He used to fly around me
    but he should've known
it is the kingdom of my fears
even the birds get lost in here

A last word whispered
Before we go quietly into the night.
No more stars to light our way
No more colors painting our dreams.
We loved, lived fiercely
Tumbling through storms of imagination.
Too late now for reruns
Much too late for serenades.
Ghostly hands caressing
every particle of our beings.
Chance glimmered like the morning star through veils of sensibility.
Ripping apart matter of physical logic,
Shoving reasons far, far behind doors
meant to lock out mad desires
haunting spells and sweet promises...
But
despite all the rationals
and hopeless day dreaming.
Believe me when I tell you.
You are loved.
Never forgotten.
Always my only.
And destined for
whatever your heart want.
Be true to faith
Aim high.
The answer is not to know it all
But to believe.

Legacy of Z

Be what you are!
Be a moving picture star
if you want to take it that far.
Drive a huge fancy foreign car.
Or write a great book
All about the chances you took.
Sit beside a picturesque brook
And immortalize how the trees shook.

Go on and tell!
Say who you are as well.
Don’t wait for the final bell
You won’t get to hear the knell.
Chose the right words.
Set them and you free as a bird.
Make people know what they heard.
Create awe with what has occurred.

Maybe you can paint.
And let people see what ain’t
Or the halo of a beloved saint.
Maybe just to trigger critical complaint.
Or maybe you carve things
Complicated stuff like angel wings.
Carve so you feel the joy that it brings;
To stir the inner soul with wonderings.

Be what you are.
Even if people stare at a scar
Or run away as fast and as far.
Those shallow folk will end up in a bar.
Or maybe you stammer
When something makes you stutter
And people laugh at every word you utter.
What you are made of is so much better.

A fold here,
another there.
I straighten it's wings
to make sure they fly as far as they can.

I swing my arm back,
and let go.

I watch as the wind carries my feelings away.

I hope that the wind carries my heart to you.

Little one, you have been buzzing in the books,
Flittering in the newspapers and drinking beer with
     lawyers
And amid the educated men of the clubs you have been
     getting an earful of speech from trained tongues.
Take an earful from me once, go with me on a hike
Along sand stretches on the great inland sea here
And while the eastern breeze blows on us and the
     restless surge
Of the lake waves on the breakwater breaks with an ever
     fresh monotone,
Let us ask ourselves: What is truth? what do you or I
     know?
How much do the wisest of the world's men know about
     where the massed human procession is going?

You have heard the mob laughed at?
I ask you: Is not the mob rough as the mountains are
     rough?
And all things human rise from the mob and relapse and
     rise again as rain to the sea.

CHARITY

ISN'T

AN

ACT

OF

KINDNESS,

IT'S

A

RETURN

GIFT !!