We danced upon the clouds, more in love than ever. We held each other tight and talked about the future. The clouds held us up high above the world and kept others from watching. Our bodies soft skin, softer than the clouds appear, inch to inch touching each other. The angels sang around us in the heavens nodding in approval, while everyone else shook their heads in disapproval. It was the moments we were that we loved.

The day was a dreary one, not because of the rain or the dark clouds. There was no death on the air either. It was something different something that can't be explained. It wasn't a lack of desire or any depressing matter it just was. Why must there be a reason for everything?

She danced upon the fragile walls of his soul, danced and pranced about. What could he do?

I sat there to take it all in. Three crows were perched in the tallest tree that has not yet grown its spring leaves. Had they come for me? The grass was green, green as spring can be. Cherry trees as pink as can be lined both sides of the plaza. People wandered about with cameras around their neck snapping pictures here and there but not stopping to enjoy the beauty. The blossoms on the trees spoke volumes if one took the time to listen. The crows called as if reminding me what really mattered. The buildings faded away, the cars stopped and all disappeared, the sounds of the city disappeared. I realized for once that I was not an American, nor a citizen of any state. I just am. Not on this continent not on this earth, not this world or universe, I just am.

She told me to talk to her and I didn't know what to say. Did just want to me to speak to her, or did she want me to talk to her. Maybe she just wanted entertained, I could do that. When one is in love the don't care about being embarrassed, or ashamed, making a fool of themselves. I don't know why but it is true.

I walked amongst the clouds and the wolves howled at the moon. The lizards showed me the way, showed me things I had never seen. We traveled miles and miles. Mescatilo had taught me the way, taught me many things. He offered me knowledge and taught me how to live my life. He gave me songs to sing on my journey and allowed me to call him with his secret name whenever I needed guidance. We flew high over mountains and swooped down into the valleys. Low over the water we traveled like an eagle swooping low for fish that weren't there. The sun was on the other side of the world and the moon was small in the sky, it was dark but still I could see everything as if it were the middle of the day. I watched the the deer sleep in the thickets, the elk graze in the meadows. The coyote stalked a single mouse, but the mouse slipped into a hole just in time. I flew next to the silence of the owl, but i wasn't in search of unsuspecting rodents. What was I in search of?

Knowledge is unfortunately not what everyone thinks it is. It is not the simple regurgitation of a fact. What is it? Not yet sure, Not yet sure. Will I tell you when I know? No, because I have a feeling that it is one of those inexpressibles that can only be experienced. A journey you will have to venture out and take on your own (If you ever choose to). We are to busy looking for easy answers offered by those around us that we don't bother to look for our own answers. Nor do we bother to ask our own questions. The questions one asks are far more important than the answers they think they have.

She forgot to protect herself from him and his unavoidable attractiveness. The strength in his jaw bone, the definition in his chest, they soft rumbling of his voice, his fair skin, toughened by sun, and eyes that stole breath helplessly from their lungs. His voice spoke words that hurt, and were with out regard to their feelings, but still they thought they loved him. Oh to be his girl, life would be good then. Life would be good. He would fix all her problems, carry her far away from he discomfort.
LIES, my reader, LIES!

Freedoms stolen by those that govern us provide us with the opportunity to be great, rather we complain, preferring mediocrity.

The trees are beautiful today. Their leafless, fleshless corpses clothed only by green moss, awaiting the hope of spring. Spring brings the green, and the romances will flourish, while my heart grows colder and more distant. Plant the fake flowers of hope and curse the rain's inconvenience. You contradict yourself. Declare the winter ugly and the rain inconvenient, waste it away with out regard. Build your walls of disillusionment, while I walk through the birth of another day, another life. One step closer to reality, one step away from your glorified delusions. I despise your dearest dreams that will never come true. Every dream dies, while your past wastes you. Look outside at the leafless, moss covered skeletons, they hold the key to your happiness. Concern your self not with your supposed inconveniences, and stop creating for yourself pointless entertainment. It is already here embodied in the leafless trees you consider despicable. Worry yourself not with the coming spring, nor the sun promised by summer. Focus on the rain that falls, the clouds that will never leave forever, and waste not the moments they have to offer you.

He wore it all on the inside, his feelings were stored deep away so that know one could see. He stole their innocence and took advantage of their beauty.

The excellence of personal retreat, an abomination of greatness. It is true the people can never be trusted.

The messes he got himself into. How he did it, he wasn't sure. Oh but how they hurt.

Interesting. A strange word.

He died a little bit inside when he gave his body away. Desires filled him, while guilt was beside him. He gave it no thought, until he wasted away. Then it was far to late. The wind blew cold all around him, and there was no one to save him. He wished inside he hadn't relied upon so many to live his life. He had to ask himself: "what is this thing, existence? And how should I have gone about it?"

I dream of things that never were and live for things no one cares for. I am different from the rest, asking questions and such. The fog travels in and the dreams they come. I chase them away with my loudest voice, and the foolish waving of my arms. Still they come again. I don't want to be like them, mindless drones, I want to think, life and know. I want to learn develop and grow. Leave me now like the wind blowing past, leave me be.

Knowledge all around me, pages and pages. Thoughts inside me, volumes and volumes. Why can't they come out? The internal flood gates hold it all back, I can't even know what it is I only feel the pressure. Oh if it could be controlled so that it doesn't have to violently burst one day and result in complete loss.

The fallacies of your mind will forever arrest development. The lies you create and accept are the cruel abortion of self development. Continue to deny your selfishness and self love and you will perish less a person than the day you were born. Admit yourself selfish, and that you love no one more than yourself and your journey will begin. Honesty is a much more plausible virtue than any ideal unachievable as love.