Treasuring being treasured.

Crystals stretching out like fingers

from the middle,

as they are.

Touching branches of the trees;

From trunks, from roots,

From soil covering seeds that once felt rain and sun blend.

Now the sky feels the aged result of their first introduction.

Spiraling, like the circle we call life,

but we all live in cubes.

In our fragility we can't find how to be limitless.

Stand firm.

If you stare long enough you can see Spring change everything on earth.

If you stay beside the ones you love, you'll believe you always can.

Or move,

And collectively we can cover dreary lies with blanketed truth

Before we are caught on the wind of reason,
and hear the sounds of our emotions.

We will whiten the darkness and put out flames of dry sounds,
of existence playing;

Not to risk staying the same,

but to play with risk for the sake of change.

A drifting life amongst others

Who are equally intricately designed,

but still far from completed.

We are reserved and stored as treasures,

scattered when released.

We are taught to be cautious,

cautiously learning to not believe.

Is it our job to defeat or be defeat-able?

Wrap love around your neck

and put what you need in what's inside your hat.

Each of us unique.

An unusual start.

Roads from on top are just downward slopes,

so enjoy the ride from on top of the world.

Right now is the beginning of every day we have left.

Fall or fly if needed, then land where it's promised.

Carved or chiseled or created, we are who we are;

It is what it is.

Environmentally friendly, but friendless.

Caring doesn't mean the same to those who seem to care the most.

Cold hearts that will someday melt,

traveling until we want to go farther,

running from what eventually catches us.

Can we ever truly stay in one place?

Can we ever touch?

And what are we feeling in the meantime?

On our tongues, words of songs we can't keep singing.

But caught there like ice, we will sing, while our voices are shaking.

Children hold arms, and keep their arms outstretched,

It just depends what side of earth you stand on..

You can walk into new footsteps by freshly blanketed paths,

Or track through the old ones and prove that a number is just what age is.

Towards the cold center,

running along the edges;

a heart's reasoning,

and thoughts beyond each wintry moment;

Gray, yet sparkling.

Snowflakes don't require clear skies to find the sun's reflection.

Neither will I.

You remind me of the blue beyond, so I'll remain

Until the clouds all fall down where frozen ground lay

beneath and under, to catch, like a palm, what belongs to it.