A Poem Is A Cup Of Words

For You Who Came So Far; For You Who Held Out, Wearing A Black Scarf To Signify Grief; For You Who Believe True Love Can Find You Amidst This Atlas Of Tears Linking One Town To Its Own Memory Of Mortar, When It Was Still A Dream To Be Built And People Moved There, Believing, And Someone With Sky And Birds In His Heart Said This Would Be A Good Place For A Park.

Sometimes There’s No One To Listen To What You Really Might Like To Say At A Certain Moment. The Paper Always Listens.

There Is A Place To Stand Where You Can See So Many Lights You Forget You Are One Of Them.

Only Kindness That Raises Its Head From The Crowd Of The World To Say It Is I You Have Been Looking For, And Then Goes With You Everywhere Like A Shadow Or A Friend.

I Want To Be Someone Making Music/with My Coming.