Colorless Rainbow

On the very outside
you look a little grey.
Like a furry kittycat
drowning in a bay.
You seem to have just no desires
and nowhere to go.
To other people you may seem a
colorless rainbow.

But on the inside, secrets hide
-a pile of precious things.
Values, creativity, a melting heart which brings
all things good to those who would
just take the risk to sow
their time and effort to observe
the colors of this
colorless rainbow.

A Whole New World of Opportunities

It's morning. -A whole brand new, fresh, cool day.
The air is so uplifting. And the fog does really make
spooky shadows when the sunrays beautifully shine
on ocean, water, river. It makes me feel so fine.

They say I'm a morning person, oh yes.
And who cannot be that when experiencing this?
I do have respect for both owls and morning larks.
But in the morning, please, all owls:
Don't turn into great sharks.

It's a whole new world of opportunities.

The Hour Glass

An hour glass is fragile,
just like the time itself.
An hour glass is physical,
you may put it on a shelf.
But time might seem abstract.
-Impossible to catch.
An hour glass is quite exact.
-To time somewhat a match.

With every tiny grain of sand
the time will slowly pass.
And like with water in my hand,
the time seems less and less.
But this perspective is just from a human mind alone.
When people some day are no more,
the time will not be gone.

A Big Blank Piece of Paper

A big blank piece of paper
right in front of you...
What are the many things
you possibly could do?
Could you write a letter,
a poem or a book?
A story of your own life,
or of worlds of trees and brooks?
The options are so endless
that you probably won't know
the outcome of what waits
the paper white as snow.
What could just come to mind?
What could you write down here?
Imagination can be kind
and also quite sincere.

The Future Foggy Mountain Dew

I'm walking through the forests on a foggy winter's day
Bare trees and snow surrounds me
The temperature is a couple of degrees above
the point of what separates ignorance and love

I watch the footsteps from where I came from
I seem to have left som prints in the world to come
What do I tell, how do I live?
What am I to leave or give?

Many won't know your name or your path
Don't expect yourself to fingure out all the math
But don't let the apathy be your snare
You can participate if you care

Many won't recognice your face on the picture
standing next to your coffin some day in the future
What do you want to leave those people?
Faith, hope, love, or another puzzle?

It's your choice to make the days
count, thought rapidness is their pace
What equipment do you provide for those who
are to navigate though the future foggy mountain dew?

Lonely Christmas

Light shades and glitter fall to the ground.
The sky's turning grey and rain's pouring down.
I'm staying at home wearing my gown
while people rejoice all over the town.

Dinner is ready, the Christmas tree too
but what are these pleasures without someone who
share it and sing along with my song?
To sing it alone again feels very wrong.

But there is no choice left to be made.
Being alone is being a shade.
And without no family, without no friend
a Happy Christmas is for me to pretend.

But with this scenario, with this event
I'll still choose this day, this very moment
And devote it to thankfulness for all the things
the year has bestowed me. And bitterness gains
no root.

The History of Individuals

Many people, many men have long gone passed away.
I know every one of them had many things to say.
Many things to teach the generation of this time.
Wisdom, knowledge, hopes and stories of which we are blind.

Other times and destinies, other views of things.
Some people died young so early, flew away with wings.
Secrets come and secrets go. They sometimes end in graves.
The history of individuals dissolves, grows weak and fades.