Wednesday, September 3, 2008

wasted nature

The wind breathes of You
soft and clean
It sings to me, But I can't sing back.

Trees look to you
bright eyed, beautiful
They look at me, but a can't return the glance.

Rain funnels down your skin
cold, yet consuming
It touches me, but I can't hold it.

The sun shines down on you
soaring heights, warm yellow rays
It reaches for me, but I must constrain my affection.

A love that is not wholehearted does not deserve a title.
Words that are spoken with weak meaning do not deserve to be heard.
Actions carried out minimally deserve the same return.
Intentions that remain ambiguous are plagued to wander endlessly.

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