If today is a page
In the way
That time as a series of events was laid out
Formatted in the same way as a novel or epic
Would the things that happen in a moment be great enough to make the final edit
I'm afraid
That if someone were to read me like a book
They wouldn't make it past the small summary that lies on the inside
Or maybe they would just see my name
And think "I've read this before"
Lending my life story to the cynical thought of "that was predictable"
Or worse yet make a game
Of what is the next thing he'll say
That is all I can think of, because that is what I would do
Am I living in a way
That every moment you could look at and say
"Now this part is important"
That it would be impossible
To open up to the middle
And "get to the good part"
No, they would have to read every sentence
Not one unimportant in the scope of the ending
It's somehow easier to live life that way
As if you're an author
Trying to save every word
From the tyrant editor
Packing weight into every single page
One breath leading to the next
Leading your life up the steps
To the great tomorrow
Life was meant to lie on the lips of old men
To exist in the smoke of the pipes held in their hands
To pour from the mind to all those who would listen
Full of hero's and friends
That character that makes you laugh with every line he says
To be read to sons and grandsons as they lie in bed
Dreaming of the tomorrows and the stars overhead
Maybe today could be the part where they reach out their hand
And plead for you to tell it again
For it is their favorite part
Where the knight saves the damsel in distress
Or maybe when he merely decides to live again
Maybe today is the page where everything changes

The artificially colored television set is playing "It's a Wonderful Life"
It is my fathers favorite, which isn't much of a surprise because I believe it's a fathers kind of movie. As George Bailey meets the girl who will one day be his wife he is a dream filled man.
Filled with ambition and enough money in his hand but he never reaches his dreams.
I remember I used to dislike it, the whole thing.
Even though we just watched it once a season for my father.
Truth is I didn't understand it, or probably more correctly I couldn't.
As a child, dreams seem as close as the moon
Which in our hope filled eyes is never that far, just a couple more summers away,
But those summers come and go and the moon seems to be running away
Staying just past our fingertips,
But as we are looking up we forget the ground
Forget the happiness that we have already found
And point at those who got a lot farther than we ever could
There comes a time when you have to look down
And find that you've been living the dream all along
I think that's what the movie means
Finding that reality will always be better than the dream
And I'm sure one day when I'm a father myself, it will be my favorite Christmas movie
And I'll make my kids begrudgingly watch it knowing that they can't understand
But one day they will
One day their dreams will escape their hand.
And when that happens they will still be able to look up and say it's a wonderful life.

Dear Beloved,

  I have traveled through the land trying to find a place for us. I've been watching the sunset from the hills that line the country trying to find one worthy of your beauty, and I've become afraid, for it is an impossible task. Please forgive me for sounding sentimental, that isn't the purpose, yet I have found myself unable to find a place perfect for our dreams. Looking for trees that will sing the best harmony to our lulling minds as the winds of the night blow across the star laced meadows. A place where the hillside is painted the color of your deep green eyes, yet I am troubled. For I'm afraid it doesn't exist. I have found that you have ruined me, for you caused me to believe that the things of dreams were able to translate into reality. You are my captured fantasy and I'm concerned that I'm being selfish in asking for another. So while there may not be the perfect place for us, I know that in your gaze I have found a home.

Yours truly, and yours alone

This chaos is choking me
And here I stand trying to make something of it.
The world demands order
Yet I am unable to connect these dots into a comprehendible picture.
My thoughts burst through the floodgates.
Leaving me to bear the full force of this raw confusion that is sweeping over me.
I want to be able to rearrange this disorder into something eloquent,
To be able to state it in a way that will make an impact,that's all.
I want to make a mark that will last long after my body is dead and gone,
But the marks that we make are too often scars.
The constellations we arrange in the skies too often fall apart.
It is a cruel cycle that I shall now become a victim of,
Yet hold on
Hold on and grasp those broken heart strings that I leave behind
And use them to tie the stars together and show the world the beauty I see in you
Collect the lights I found in your eyes and paint a picture
That will immortalize the way I look at you
Our time was short yet it seemed like an eternity
And I will always rest in that small infinity we shared