Poems from rainnholiday
I often wonder
if everything has been said.
If every thought
that slides through my head
has been, before.
And, if so,
what were their past...
I just looked up at my ceiling,
And I thought
that each raised, white formation
could be a star in our galaxy.
My ceiling
is a microcosm.
I cannot change people.
I must constantly remind myself
that all I can do
is love people enough
to make them believe
that, while they are...
If eyes are the windows into the soul
then what does the color of them mean?
My eyes are brown.
Who am I, because of this?
Would I be...
The moon rose
from her throne in the sky
just one inch, tonight.
There is something too pure
about the night.
Not "pure" as in "innocent"....