It seems the more and more we think
the further and further we stray off track
from what we really want from our life,
and what we truly lack.

We regard the sadness, and lay waste to joy
and string emotion as if a toy
as a metaphor unleashed for hate
shan't we stop before it's to late?

Perhaps it is,
perhaps it has been for quite sometime.
Perhaps we've lost what it means to be us.
Perhaps we've lost our simplicity and sublime.

The past love for each other exists no more,
no more than a myth or a legend of history.
No more can we consider ourselves different
in this galaxy full and full of mystery.

The trees attempt to teach us their knowings
as the grass aids in the process.
The water cries in agony along with the wind
but could we care any less?

Technology runs our every thought
from the set of the sun to the domination of Moon.
Lost track of the entity of time
creates an unwanted death too soon.

For what we do is not live
What we do is not being alive.
For being alive is the act of pursuing
dreams, love, and drive!

The sun will set and the moon will rise
day after day, and time after time.
But what when they don't?
And what when they never will?

What when we are forced to live off each other
And live off those heroes of time gone past?
What when we are no longer considered a race
but just lowly beings harassed;

In an unforgiving world created by us
We must live for ourselves and thus,
create a new world of natural functionality
of love and peace in fellow man.

If every leaf on every tree
could tell her story,
what would it be?

If every blade of grass could sing,
what song would it be
and what peace could they bring.

If every star in the sky could dance,
how fluent would it be,
and could it create a trance?

One day we'll see,
that all it takes is you and me
to make the difference for Her.

One day you will see,
that it will come to be
that we can all live free.

Peace on Earth;
and peace of mind,
will mend to one
and create a sublime.

Until then we are blind;
in fact we are the fire
that will burn on in time.
Time until the end returns,
to recreate the cycle of life.
Time that continues to burn--
Oh god, to kill of the strife.

So I ask you,
with this at hand
and peace of mind.

If every leaf on every tree
could tell her story;
would it be so kind?

There lay a story in the stars
of how far we've come and what is ours.
There is a story within the sea,
of what is to come, and what is to be.
Nature's fortune: the truth goes away,
leaving humanity full of dismay.
Though not all hope is lost,
for poetry still exists;
to enlighten those who want it,
and to those who miss.
There lay a story in the stars;
of what is to come, and what WILL be ours.