THE PREMISE OF LOVE

My life is a floss in the wind

My life is a floss in the wind, tomorrow and I'll be no more
At least it’ll be all peace from this world I abhor

Regardless of its bitterness, I still see its beauty

And so I know, that to it I own a duty

I’ve seen men feel alive when they are six feet deep

And others with life and yet asleep

With names not even men a meter away know

And in few years to come they’ll lay six foot below

I have a name men a mile away don’t know of

I keep trying to be an eagle and yet a dove

Years to come and I have no name too

Only if I could leave a name before my time is due

And so I write like all I have is today

And if I die, may I be arrayed

Next to men who made a change

And not to be among men who caused the world a derange

And so I write with a piece of my soul

So that I’ll be to this world, a foal

Living a life of good that is indelible

And be to the life of a generation, a dibble

And so if all this world could give is a paper

Just give it out and I’ll make a skyscraper

Not of blocks and glasses but of words

And bonding each floor will be a piece of me

And if this world runs out of ink to write

Just know I have one flowing through me

A writers plight? He already gave away his soul in all those pieces

And you think he’ll be stingy giving out his blood?

And if I die, burry me with a copy of my words

The original with me, and the other for the world

Leave my words behind and you’ll bury a man without a soul

Body in a casket and soul left to wonder