one day the world
will forget our names,
our memories will be
wiped away from the surface of the earth
and the things we used to own
will turn to ashes with us.
then, we'll be buried underground.
we will become one with the earth
and our flesh will linger through
the wildflowers and sprout again above our coffins
and we'll say our last words to the wind.
the temples that were made for us
will turn into an artifact,
a museum of what we were
and what we could have been.
one day, the last star will collapse
and the universe will be inhabitable.
but we will linger around the
dark and black void that we
once called home.

Back at the berry farm...
Boston's Berry Farm;
Where streams slide slick as oil
And beautiful birds choose their perches with caution.
With winding roads of dirt and dust,
Each pebble has its own face,
He throws one when I say no---
It hits my heart and shatters my hopes.
Silenced screams on the forest floor,
I bury myself in my mind
As he buries my head in his lap---
I stifle a cry, I swallow my pride, and I forget.
My best friend, my neighborhood knight
Picks up a baseball bat,
Slams the smile off of his face
Breaks his ribs, but doesn't break the promise.
No one knew, no one knows,
It stays buried under the maple leaves,
Under the twigs and the wildflowers,
Under the shadows of the silkworms' nests.

don't be afraid to dream
because dreams were made for you
and you were made to dream.
darling,
close your eyes,
and let your soul be surprised
by the fire kindled in your heart
and the spark that lights your eyes.
so darling,
close your eyes,
and let your soul be surprised
and let it marvel at the dreams
that were planted in your heart
and just like wildflowers,
let them bloom.
but darling,
don't be surprised
when the wildflowers blossom
and your dreams come true.