Treaman

From the dead of night Til breaking dawn, Upon noons high sun Below the hues of dusk Pondering the meaning Of a world without purpose. Why am I here? What am I to do? Who am I? In the Void A glitter of sol A small, bright pin Pricked into deep darkness Am I to believe This tiny speck, Nearly nothing in this space, Could really have meaning? What is it? Something to fill, Something to be seen In a place where Nothing else exists. It is beauty, A way past today! It is a chance, Opprotunity for tomorrow! It is Hope.

Vastness of space The solitary emptiness Mystery in its endless bounds What secrets it holds The solitary emptiness Slowly continuing on What secrets it holds Triumphant and vigil Slowly continuing on What secrets it holds Triumphant and vigil Secrets still kept within The mountain's beholder Vastness of space Secrets still kept within Mystery in its endless bounds

Viva la Vida... "I used to rule the world." Yea, I guess I used to. Laughed at everything, no reason to cry, Then the world hit me And mine fell awry. Whatever happened To those days of young? ----------------------- They call me a geek, random, askew. I know I am, but I also know Who else I am, too. It may not show, but I am many things:  *The fluttering and song  Of birds passing through.  *The warm feeling,  When I know I'm needed, too.  *The feeling of water  Around my feet,  *And the suns bask,  When there's not too much heat. ----------------------- "You remember when we were little? We'd get dressed real

What's the difference between you and me? In 1 aspect: everything, in another: absolutely nothing. Is it really a question of who we are? What we've done? Or what we were meant to be? In essence, what is a difference? Is it anything more than what we believe to be normal? What is normal? In reality, this is not a question. "Normal" is a standard set up by all those people who swing with this crowd or that so they can point out the "flaws" of someone else. But is there really a normal in this world. The answer is no. So how does this answer what makes me different than you? Even if this question isn't directed at anyone in particular, I see

What is poetry? That is a musical media, spanning from ideas as simple as life and death, or as immense as mystery itself. really, it has no single meaning... Still, what is poetry? A fallen leaf noticed by a strolling passerby or a ripple on a pond with koi dashing within its depths? A strange way of telling an idea of oneself, but told by another, or a depiction of the workings of reality. All of these things express pooetry, but yet none of which are seen quite the same. So what is poetry? Poe's 'The Raven', his morbid memory of love long lost, or of my own work, 'Just a Leaf?', an inspiration to further meaning. Poetry can answer many que

For some, I know your pain Our sufferings are all the same. For these, I know how you feel But I have come to see That these are not always real Depression, Suppression, and Oppression too, For all of these, pain does ensue. Dwell not in what others say can't be done Because its only after you leave this crowd That you can surely see life can be fun. But for all the pain I see I could never understand completely The worlds yet unseen. Unlike most people, you and I There are some much more demeaned. Cancers, War, and Poverty as well Pardon me saying, but thats more of a hell. I'll restate it again: We all have our strains But

Do you remember Those days long past, Those times in school That have since been left behind? As friends We met, Introduced ourselves, Knew that adventure Was soon to come... As friends We played, Knew we could be Those things of our dreams... As freinds We fought, Knew our enemies Had no chance against us. You announced your soon-departure, Then nothing was the same. The mockery and avoidance Made me uncertain of our friendship. What happened To those days of young, To the times we spent Playing in the sun? What happened To those good old times, Full of laughter and care, The time of our lives? What happened To

Closed Dark and unsettling A canyon-deep secret, unrevealed. A door, open slowly A burst of rushing wind Enlightenment by thunder A splendid window into thought Once closed, it still reveals True meaning, now discovered

Nature mystery and splendor all its own Its vast beauty impossible to comprehend A single leaf just a leaf? Everything is always more unseen Maybe a plate set out to capture The suns radiance within its small expanse Maybe a shard to ward off Those that seek to impose upon it Maybe  there is more Impossible to comprehend