What good is a pen
If it cannot mend
A broken heart?
What’s the good in words
If it cannot console
An aching soul?
My pen is tired
From years of toil
And it is spent
From years of tears.
But what good is a pen
If it cannot begin
Again?
Sometimes I think this life is too short for me,
When I think of all the things I want to do,
When I think of all the places I want to see,
When I think of all the people I want to love.
If I could have more eyes to see the world,
Or more ears to hear each song,
Or more hands to touch each flower,
What a marvelous thing that would be!
Perhaps I could live again and again,
To experience life anew each time,
A different person in another place,
A different world to explore each time.
But when I think about what I’ve been given,
And when I think of all the people I’ve ever loved,
I can’t help but ask to be forgiven
For wanting more than what I’ve got.
I have come to realize that I never want another me
And I wouldn’t want another life,
If that means I would forget
All the people I’ve met and loved.
Time here is short, but time here is sacred,
Each second is a portal to that which never ends,
A single song resounds forever,
A single touch can last for as long as I could remember.
I don’t need multiple parts of a fragmented life,
I don’t need to start again when I just have to say goodbye,
This life is enough… this one life that can be whole,
I know that it need not end, because of my immortal soul.
When I think of you, I can’t help but think
That perhaps I’ve known you ever since…
What else could explain that part
That whispers such longings in my heart?
When I think of you, I can’t help but think
That I’ve known you for a long time.
A time long enough to laugh, to dream, to cry,
Long enough to part and say goodbye.
What I feel for you is something more
Than the short time we have been together,
Who you are to me is something more
Than the short days since we have met.
But who am I to question what love is all about?
Or to assume whether things can or cannot be?
Perhaps it was not from another life,
Or another dream where there was you and me.
Perhaps it is this life alone
This life that throbs so much with love,
And what I’ve felt is part of that wondrous thread
That connects “what is” to “what is yet to come.”
Eternity speaks for you and me,
Where there is no wall between the years,
I have just met you now, but “we have always been”
And forever we shall be just like we are now.
My feet doesn’t always seem
To follow where I lead.
The more I think about it,
The more I believe
That it has a mind of its own.
Sometimes they just come to a halt
In the midst of a walk,
And instead of moving forward,
They take a turn
Upon a familiar road,
And I follow them,
Where I see old faces
And familiar smiles,
Where the scent of flowers
Bid me to come quicker
And to stay longer,
And if I’m not careful,
I know I wouldn’t want
To leave.
If it were up
To my own two feet,
They wouldn’t go anywhere else
But there
Where they could find rest.
In that warm place
Where I could snuggle into bed
Without fear
And where I’d wake up
With no regrets.
O, why must I go
If I wanted so badly to stay?
Perhaps someday,
I’d let my feet return
I’d let them take me back
Where I can be myself again,
But until then,
I’d tell them
There are things
That must be done,
And battles that must be won.
Someday, somehow
We’d find a way
To never leave again.
It’s not the thorns that made me cry,
Though they pricked my hands
And awakened me from that moment
Reminding me that time hasn’t stopped
When you said goodbye.
It’s not the thorns that made me cry,
Though they existed side by side
With something so beautiful
I never thought I’d bleed
If I held on too long or too deep.
Wasn’t it just yesterday
When you gave me those roses
Professing your never ending love?
I’ve always thought I could bear the tears,
But it’s not the thorns that made me cry.