How far can I take those eyes?
Up beyond the stars—
A place you’ve never known
And only a dream can do you justice.

You are my damsel,
A dear maiden
Who has enraptured my heart—
Kissing me with each beat
Of her ever purer soul.
Masters of the light
Disasters with every fight—
We make the day what we will
How can we decide
Who to know—
And what to shrug off.

In our secrets who do we want?
Those parts of us we hide
Among this distant lands
We ourselves do not wish to know,

I watch in so many ways,
Your glances, those advances—
But I am too weak to act on those inhibitions
I am but a man,
Where you are so many things more to me.
Life is your gift, and happiness is the blood you keep
Just a past and present future that can never be,
We are but people on this stone road.

The others I have known do little to escape me,
As your glance grows closer
I cannot picture anyone more—
For me you are and I am only a dream.
Love is so far from my heart,
As is the hope of feeling something

I see your face and cannot decide what to do,
Locked in your gaze—
I wonder, why you give me that look.
Is there feeling behind it
Os can it be what I’ve dreamed of.
Now I cannot write,
My mind has been purged
Slaughtered and destroyed—
And the only skill I possessed
Can be called an unpolished art.

So much truth in every little word,
And a passion that even you don’t understand.
How can this be?
That will let us part,
With not even a gentle embrace
To remember.

To be lost is only to never be found,

Who are we to know,
What lives we should lead?
Destiny can only be known as a word
Dastardly in its truest form,
But ultimately flawed in everything.
If you were to die,
Would you follow that fate to an end.
Challenge the place we saw,
Should be that goal we seek.
For if one way be set for us,
Than why not should out hearts choose another?

I watch the skies,
For a revealing light—
Noticing the subtle moods
And emotions.
Trying to find a hopeful something,
To fill the gap
Turning the loneliness
So that I can be at peace.

But are you ready,
For me to be a believer
In all you have made me feel.
Should I trust again,
And know my mind is falling—
To see the questions only you have asked.

Its been so long since I found you,
And finally knew what it was
That made me ask you this
To be in my life forever
Now will you forgive my heart

Fate is what we make it,
Just as time is what we tell it.
Wielding the greatest powers of all
But truly never knowing who we are to be
And how to use the knowledge we already have.

It only hurts when I breathe,
To feel so helpless and afraid
That each path we take is unknown.
So much war and pain
Wrecking fragile peaces, alliances
We ourselves have no understanding of.
Getting gin a line-up,
To our end of days
A beginning that only spells an end
To every life,
Every home and family—

If I could see those eyes,
Just one more time before an end came to me—
I would never wish for anything more
As I do wish for this now.
That smile which made me cry,
And such a laugh,
To make me smile just to admire.

Who can make this night feel as warm
As an afternoon,
Her arms so soft as to hold heaven
In its ultimate touch.
Where life is but a word to be uttered
And never forgotten as long as this time is known.

Who are we to judge,
Where nothing is known, except that it is here
As long as I’m alive

Its easy to see who we are,
From the simple words
And the actions we come to know.
This is a justification of everything we are—
Let the simple parts be us
And nothing else but that.

We are each others inspirations
Knowing each pain and triumph,
Like two lovers.
Keeping the pain of the other
And putting a little comfort
Where a bit of love is needed.

Do not show the pain,
Rather the passion
Inside us all—
From our souls
To the tips of our fingers.
Know one another,
And give love to life

How did I come here?
What distance did I walk?
Will this be my place,
To be born a new
With the hopes of my friends
And love.

The ground is cold,
Covered in a green moss—
Which is damp to the touch.

A tree stands in front of me,
Tall and thick with life—
Well from the years of work
It needed to survive.
This is my place to live and die
With a smile on my face.

Why do I write with so much pain,
When all it is making me hurt,
And I have only one heart to offer.
What is a name,
When there are so many greater
Than mine.
The use of a pen,
Is only as good as its writer.

But in many cases the pen can make the man,
Like Milton, Coleridge, and Wordsworth
Their own ambitions were not enough
Yet the mere sight
Of a blank sheet—
Gave rise to the simplest words
In such beautiful contrast
Of one another.

Who’s place is it to say,