A Galaxy Can Smile

Youth passes by knowledge,
burning to make memories
Age is a number?
Age is a monster,
yet the old reminisce of a simpler time,
but how?
How do you remember simple things
through the eyes
of a polymorphous triune passion?
how is it that I'm ever certain
yet I have regrets
with some I forget?

Inexperience is simply potential
in the gaze of the wise.
Knowledge treats us of the wounds
that we've been born with;
but too much,
an earthquake,
and we don't quite rebuild,
not yet, anyway,
but I never could figure out
who's to say.
I only want the world to see
that we're each a galaxy..

Senility is passionate, too,
as a kiss blown to a tree
one may (never?) know
how it felt
or if (they?) did
and a leaf will pass us by,
not alive,
but not quite dead,
not yet, anyway,
but I never could figure out
who's to say.
I want to know the difference
in now and severance.

A fiery mane
I hallucinate
around your eyes,
a shroud,
just a cloud,
something I think I want
and so I need?
A memory is a world,
I don't believe in one,
is there another?
My mind as the ocean,
full of life,
bound by the moon,
whet and weathered by time,
sometimes I can't rhyme.

Dead dry eyes seem to be alive,
living triste tries to inexist.
Why am I so happy to be sad?
I love the reality inside,
it's just surreal.
I truly feel
the truth never loved me
the way i tried
to love truth.
to be honest,
I'm too smart
to be held down
by what I think
and so
I know..