How am I to know what's right from wrong when all the reasons blend into one.

we may be ourselves, but we are also others. built by each passerby whether we realize it or not. it takes but a glance or even a breath for their essence to become part of who we are.

It has been a year since I last got to hold you in my arms. You still walk this earth, but the missing you feels as if you have left it.

A cool wind rustles the spring leaves as they slowly combust.

how does one create without the weight of the world? how does one use such a power without being drained? every time I create, a great sadness washed over me. how do i create a feather when all my tools are rocks?

A deep gold falls over the horizon. Or is it rising? Where does it go as it fades to blue?

There are two sides to a coin, and mine is always in the air