It is Far More Beautiful

Sometimes I look into the reflection and see the little boy with forest green eyes 

begging the world to end so he wouldn’t feel anymore. 

But then I see an old cripple 

Surrounded by his books 

The knowledge of the world at his fingertips but he sits in a wooden chair 

Reading children’s stories 

It’s funny 

How God can make boys into men 

And men into toddlers 

Via fate and some other mystic words 

It’s like we’ve fallen into a snare 

The ways of the world will turn and tumble 

But we find ourselves upright after a long night of dreaming 

We awake 

And There’s a feeling 

A feeling That bridges the waves and the shore 

The lost and the found 

The forgiven and unforgiven 

It’s like toothpicks 

And steel beams 

It crumbles like pillars 

And grows like grape vines 

So intangible but always there 

It hurts the most 

And burns deeply 

It gives a man purpose 

And another none at all 

I find it in the most unlikely of places 

And where I expect it I find merely ash 

It’s the last thing I ever wish to feel 

And the first I fear I’ve felt 

Don’t wake up and dream of stars 

Sleep and dream of summer nights and swimming 

Sleep and dream of this feeling that is only ever so far upon waking 

Pray that the pieces fall into place 

Pray that your eyes can see more than what’s given to them 

Pray that you can hold the hand of someone and feel not alone 

Because so many crowds make one feel so alone 

And so many quiet conversations make one feel so much more 

It is far more beautiful to love 

It is far more beautiful to live