Do I overdo it
You must understand that these pages give me great reason to sigh
Both for the comfort that they speak and the words of pain and fulfillment not yet written
I often talk in epic terms and I am most sincere in my belief
That this book needs your ranting and conviction and trouble so pick up your pen
If there is a man
Who thinks he’s not made his mark
I ask: Think again
Nameless, faceless and unable to throw away pieces
Of paper
To do so would be to discard one’s self
And the world doesn’t need anymore sadness
Keep them
The pieces
Keep them for dangerous notes, ideas of intrigue and little love messages
Out of the box and into my heart for safekeeping
Them
The pieces
And your name and that face
I wish to soothe too
Since I’m just a seed planter
I’ll pretend I do
This seems like freedom
Wearing smiles and muscles flexed
All light bulbs turned on
I answered the call
The open invitation
I picked up the pen
A deep-breath morning
A go-outside-and-play day
A take-your-time trek
It mocks me
That second sun that I know I saw when I was just a bit younger
I may have been mistaken
About its distance away or whether I revolve around it
Or it around me or we around each other
But I saw it and its steady song is seared to my secret spot
Listen as I add my own verses, feel as I forgive myself and watch as I wear
What it loves
Now I stop haunting
Who I didn’t know I was
And we’ll both exhale
Fear is amazing
It extinguishes The Fire
That isn’t The Plan
