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The softness of a breeze rushes through your soul 
like no impartial being
as I fell to grasp the distance of heaven 
and realized how far heaven really was
the tears of another fall from a deep blue sky 
telling a story as harsh as the spirit of 
these miserable, imprisoned souls
I wonder, sometimes, why we’re so lost
 a nation of takers and pushers and
violent reactions
if we fall, and catch each other in open arms
if we stop caring if we abide by divine
law alone...and rush to the heavens but never
make it. if we’re free, but imprison ourselves yet again
if we want something we can’t have
if we don’t care to be cared for/what will 
happen then?
The breeze gets softer then stronger then dies down
and I make my own heaven in the warmth
 of the sun against a deep blue sky .
taking the ifs and the ands.
taking my own sweet time; 
in the puddle of tears that I cry.


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