Sunday, June 5, 2011

A poem for a person.

Like time, it is relative.
The well-forgotten but,
when remembered,
remembered happily
childhood full of smiles and
birthday parties
and Santa Claus.
You go through life,
wishing to be older-
because no one told you
there are downsides
even then-
not stopping to realize
what a lovely thing you have.
It's cooler to act older.
But we all grow up in the end.
We slowly learn the truth,
that Santa Claus was never real.
An intangible force that guides you
to heightened feelings,
lower standards.
You realize how foolish you were
with every passing year,
you promise not to believe
with every passing moment.
But we still change, we still believe,
to what end?
What a time to live in,
where your heart and your mind
almost always rage a war.
Where your self-esteem and flaws
almost always rage a war.
Where your perception and your beliefs
almost always rage a war.
The battlefield of every soul,
stealing moments but making them as well.
But still we grow older,
still we learn and change and hope.
The deterioration of our anchors
only add to the quickening of our thoughts.
The cycle quickens and then there we rest,
with a shower of tears and flowers for your
empty shell.
Did you think your body is what carries it all?
Stages of life come and go, some well remembered
and it is all kept with each other.
The energy of life, of God,
it represents that we are all connected.
There is no living without life
there is no life without living.
And while it may seem we've gone,
we continue to remain in the hearts
of those who feel abandoned.

--I hope you liked it.

Love, Hippie.

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