Cry of the Stars

You’re not like me.
Your hair is golden
and your eyes are
light green-blue,
while I am brown and brown,

and in a crowd
your smiles are silent
and you hardly speak,
while I am louder than I’d like to be,
and I am not like you.

If I could sit with you alone,
perhaps your quietness
would trickle out,
and I could break
a piece of it, and take
that bit of you
with me.

quick wind is bearing
warm and forest-scented rain
while clouds are still streaked
bright with sun.
earth is drinking in both
light and water,
and I am waiting here
to watch a rainbow's birth.
 

[A/N: Springtime is the best.]

I need to find this faint reality,
for I have fallen deep into my mind
and phantom dreams are more than they should be.

Your glowing eyes are everything I see,
consuming every glance, so I am blind
when grasping at this faint reality--

and strangled by my thirst till I can't breathe,
so peaceful rest's impossible to find,
and phantom dreams are more than they should be.

Yet would this dark night seek to rescue me,
my senses pulling at me from behind?
I'm laughing at this faint reality,

endeavoring to set my being free--
for 'round my heart your arms are closely twined,
and phantom dreams are more than they should be.

Your smile will drive me to insanity
unless, until your every thought is mine.
I must escape this faint reality;
my phantom dreams are more than they should be.

The sun sinks into the sea
Thoughts swell, abstract and free
--
He is the king of solitude
His vision hazed and tears blued
--
Couragous only to the extent of convenience
The craven, our familiar acquaintance