An open letter to the destroyers of dreams

When I was a young boy I had dreams; I had dreams, ideals and beliefs; beliefs which made me feel comfortable and certain. Now I do not dream anymore, now I realize that was we want has always been in front of us: That beauty, that very beauty which manifests itself so elegantly has given…

The plainness of life

It is an irony that you gear up up for problems, Only to have nothing to say when you encounter them. When you are prepared to face the problems of life, It is too late to articulate words. That time is not in your heart to say, But plunders your mind of what was wasted,…

The alieness of love’s touch

There is not a song in my heart which plays an effect. There is not a line in between the great modesties of explanations. Neutrality dictates and holsters me, Its voice beacons in trap cages of darkness and guilt. Nothing ever gives what it takes, Whether it be the death of a friend or the…

The day the music died

I would not be one to be contained of mind, the day the music died. Malificent of conjuring aquitraces It’s pigment of manifested derogatives, appetite only to that of it’s stride, To demise in accordance, travelling exodus of flourishing; the day the music died. It requeilms a classical entity, derivative of how it manifested itself…

The passing of time

My friend, Do not miss me, do not yonder to the trees of green or plump purple. If I am to go, do not concede me, do not ponder my existence or restrain me so. My wings are inadvertently flourishing and flapping themselves so elegantly you would say such an action has always occurred, so…

My time has passed

And none too soon I came to sleep My time has passed like the fragile wreath. No time spent sooner in this life then when water falls in the distant strife. Though one may feel young and quiet, the passing of time, When he was vibrant. To witness passing that seemed too long, To feel…